Argenteous
by type-ical
Summary: Three years after a war which rocked the status quo, everything's nearly back to normal, but being young in pureblood society has always meant a struggle to balance the ancient and new. Among these conflicting influences, Draco and Astoria meet...
1. The Wedding

_**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.**_

_**Updates weekly.**_

**One: ****The Wedding**

The Greengrasses lived in a vast house which was so covered by ivy that it was nearly impossible to make out its regal gray stone. The front of the manor was shaded by a very large willow tree, but behind it there was a rose garden and a lawn of perfectly manicured grass onto which the sun could shine freely.

Today, though, there were unusual additions to the back garden. Several rows of silver dinner chairs were arranged so as to allow an aisle in the middle, which led up to a green archway that appeared to be made solely out of ivy similar to that which covered the house.

At exactly one o'clock that afternoon, guests seemed to arrive out of nowhere: popping into existence in the shade of the front willow and then being led by young men in black dress robes to be seated in the sunny back yard. After about a half hour, when everyone had been shown to their appropriate chairs, five wizards stood up in front of the archway. Four were rather young, and one was very old.

The elderly wizard raised a gnarled hand and, with a wave of his wand, the sound of a full pipe organ emanated almost eerily from the archway. Immediately all of the guests, who had previously been murmuring among themselves, fell silent and turned in their seats to see the first bridesmaid, smiling as she made her way down the aisle.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen of the house there stood a frantic little elf and the remainder of the wedding party, all very nervous. "_Go, _Pansy!" shrieked the youngest of them irritably, pushing the witch towards the back door.

"I can't go out like this, I-" but she was cut off by another shrill yell as the door was open and she was forced through it, the sash of her rather putrid green dress disappearing just in time so that it did not get caught in the shutting door.

Astoria watched Pansy out the window until she saw her take her place next to the ivy arch, and then quickly stepped out the kitchen door, which her father had opened for her. She clutched her bouquet of roses so tightly that her knuckles were probably whiter than the flowers; in fact, she was thankful that the sun was in her eyes and so she couldn't really see the bridesmaids, minister, and groom's party as she walked toward them.

At the end of her walk she was able to catch the groom's dark eye and smile for just a moment, but as she took her place next to the arch he, and everyone else, had eyes only for her sister.

Admittedly, Daphne did look quite lovely—or at least as lovely as she had always been—as she picked her way on her father's arm to the front of the congregation. Her shiny blond hair was piled very high on top of her head, and her gown was flowing out behind her angelically. Astoria thought that she noticed a certain smug look on her sister's face at all the attention she was receiving. Nonetheless, she felt a rush of affection towards Daphne, who was, at this moment, the only one present who was staring intently at the groom.

Daphne reached her ivy arch, kissed their father, and turned to face the aged minister.

The day was hot and the ceremony droned on: They were gathered on the old Greengrass land… two stately and pure wizarding families were being joined by a union of love… they ought to remember the great examples set by their predecessors, also married here…. After the first twenty minutes or so Astoria's head was swimming in the afternoon heat, her feet ached uncomfortably in her dangerously high heels, and the sun beat down mercilessly on her hair, a few shades darker than her sister's and just barely brown. After ten more minutes, which seemed like several hours, Blaise Zabini was taking Daphne Laurel Greengrass to be his wife, and Daphne Laurel Greengrass was taking Blaise Zabini to be her husband, and they were bonded for life.

It was a relief when Astoria realized that everyone had started applauding politely, and she joined in as heartily as she could as she watched her new brother-in-law kiss her crying, beaming sister. It was even more a relief to her when the guests were told to rise, and their chairs flew away and resituated themselves around many polished oak tables on a stone floor which had been temporarily magicked a few yards away from where she now stood.

The whole arrangement was shaded by a slightly transparent green awning, suspended magically in the air, and Astoria made her way towards the head table, eager to down a glass of pleasantly cool champagne.

However, as she sat at the long rectangular table at the westernmost end of the pavilion she realized she would have to wait even still, for the extremely old wizard was now talking in his wizened voice, introducing the members of the wedding party. She forced herself to stand for a moment and smile as he said, "Astoria Greengrass, sister of the bride and Maid of Honor," but as she sank back into her chair her face receded into its heat-induced stupor. In fact, it wasn't until her plate covered itself in roast beef and her champagne glass had refilled itself not once, but twice, that she finally felt contented, if still very bored.

Her eyes raked the crowd of purebloods catching up with old friends and distant cousins. She was looking for a familiar face, any friend from Hogwarts, but most of the younger guests were from her sister's year, and she had no desire to go back to being Daphne's tagalong younger sister, as she had been known in their days at school. Sighing, she went off among the crowd, talking briefly with a few acquaintances here and there until she felt she had been away from her table long enough to return to it. Once there she struck up a conversation with Tracey Davis, a bridesmaid who was also using the table as a haven, for she was avoiding her apparently clingy boyfriend.

They stayed there until dusk, when all the older guests began apparating away, so that only Daphne's and Blaise's closest school friends were left. Tracey, who was good with a wand, quickly changed the regal music tinkling from the green awning to something channeled from the Wizard Wireless, someone else conjured a bottle of firewhiskey and shot glasses, and everyone raised their voices by more than a few decibels. Deciding that she could be spared the chaos that was about to unfold, Astoria rose from her seat, downed the last of what must have been her fifth or sixth glass of champagne, and found her sister.

"Daphne!" she shouted over the din, and her sister whirled around, smiling giddily. Much of her hair had fallen out of its ornate arrangement, which made her look younger, but no less beautiful. "I'm going to turn in, alright? Congratulations!"

She made to leave, but Pansy Parkinson, who was visibly drunk, seized her arm probably more roughly than she had intended. "Oh, 'Storia! Stay!"

"No, I- I really must be going!" Astoria grabbed the half empty bottle of champagne out of Pansy's hand, and the other girl had seemed about to object before she was pulled away by someone faceless. Or at least, they seemed faceless, for Astoria then realized that her vision was rather blurred around the edges.

Shrugging it off, she tried to make a quick escape, but it was with much hindrance and many calls of "Don't leave us, Baby Greengrass!" that she made her way up towards the house. She was about to stumble in the back door when she realized that if her parents or Poppi the elf saw her with half the bottle of champagne they would surely take it away from her and insist she go to bed. So instead she turned to the rose garden.

She dropped down at the entrance into the garden, so that she was sitting half on the gravel walkway and half on the grass of the lawn, and collected her voluminous green skirts about her. After a moment she remembered why she hadn't gone inside in the first place, and with fumbling fingers tried to uncork the bottle, but soon gave it up for a lost cause. She pulled out her wand and sent the cork flying out so quickly that zoomed several feet away. Frowning, she looked down at the golden light of the party below as she took an impressive swig of champagne.

She stayed that way alone for a long while, or at least, by the time she noticed the pale young man making his way up the hill towards her there were somehow only five or six centimeters of drink left in the bottle. As he came closer she realized two things at almost the same moment: She was slumped sideways onto the bush to her left and was also very, very drunk.

Though she immediately sat up and placed the champagne bottle, which she had been holding rather tightly to herself, down on the stones behind her, the closer he came the more Astoria believed, with a sinking feeling somewhere down inside her, that if by some miracle in the morning she remembered this encounter she would not ever be able to look back on it without cringing.

"Hello," said the vaguely familiar voice of Draco Malfoy, as he dropped down unceremoniously next to her, "How are you?"

"Sleepy." She realized that it was a rather stupid thing to have said just after it had come out of her mouth, and the part of her mind that was still functioning properly was absolutely horrified.

Astoria wondered if his laugh was malicious or not, but decided that she would have her entire lifetime to –hopefully not– embarrassedly recall this scene, so she really ought not to worry about it at the moment. "Why are you here?" This, besides being quite rude, was also a rather stupid thing to have said, and she tried to qualify it by gesturing down at the glow of the party below them and saying, "and not there?" Then she realized that that _too _was a rather stupid thing to say and resolved to keep her mouth shut.

She wasn't surprised at his silence, and was a little startled when he answered her thoughtfully a few moments later. "This is the last hurrah for us, I think. It's sort of like a last common room party. Soon we'll have outgrown them." He paused for a second. "I think I already have."

Even in her impaired state Astoria knew exactly what might have made Draco Malfoy grow up faster than the rest of the Slytherins in his year, though it thankfully didn't occur to her to say anything about it. "I'm sorry," she said, and, feeling that inadequate, laid her head onto his shoulder. The voice of reason, buried under deep fuzziness in her consciousness, was screaming that it was a highly inappropriate thing to do, but this was just another action she was resigned to balk at for the rest of her life.

She wasn't sure how long they sat in silence, watching the shadows of her sister's friends, a darker green on the pavilions awning. Time was doing funny things, Astoria noticed, though for some reason at that moment she didn't particularly mind.

Finally, she absentmindedly reached for the bottle of champagne behind her and took a long sip, wiping her mouth on her hand and her hand on the skirt of her dress.

"May I?" asked Draco, as he carefully extracted the bottle from her grasp. He took two long swigs from it before placing it on his other side just, Astoria noticed, out of her reach.

There was quiet, broken only by Draco taking another sip from the champagne- and then his sudden laughter. "Good lord, do you remember the pre-Christmas celebration? It must have been my fifth year."

Astoria fought through the champagne induced haziness and found the memory almost immediately. She had been in her third year, and all she knew of the event was that all of her sister's classmates had huddled over a bottle of firewhiskey in a corner, getting louder and louder until they finally began passing out, in bed or elsewhere. Draco, she recalled suddenly, had probably been the drunkest of them all.

She hadn't known him then, in fact, she didn't know him _now, _but she had always casually admired him from afar. He had been the pinnacle of what a Slytherin should be: pureblood, powerful, and popular. Before that night, she'd always imagined him as very solemn, though after he conjured himself a rather lopsided crown and declared himself King of the Common Room, to much laughter and applause, that image of him had been permanently broken. A sudden thought occurred to her.

"How did _you_ remember it?" She surely wasn't going to remember tonight.

"Oh, I didn't. Crabbe and Goyle filled me in on everything in the morning. Though I think there are some things they missed. They're," he paused for just a fraction of a second and cleared his throat. "Goyle's still slipping me newer and more horrifying details every now and then."

She smiled up at him sadly, "That's terrible," she wasn't exactly sure that she was talking about embarrassing revelations.

"Quite.

"Then again, it's really not, comparatively," he muttered, and Astoria, drunk though she was, was almost sure that it was only to himself. To her horror, she found herself voicing the thought that was exactly the wrong thing to say.

"You didn't really have a choice."

She rolled her eyes up to see his reaction and he was looking down at her. She couldn't read his expression. Was he angry or just shocked? He confused her even further by smiling wryly.

"Everyone has a choice, Astoria," he said, with a hint of irony in his voice. "I mean, nobody forced me to drinkhalf a bottle of Firewhiskey. It was just the thing that was done."

"But what else could you have done?" she asked, squinting at a sudden burst of pain in her forehead.

He thought for a moment. "Stood up for my integrity as a prefect and soon-to-be member of the Inquisitorial Squad and abstained."

Astoria laughed. As the shadows on the canopy below were swimming into each other she tried to collect her thoughts. "If you had done that Goyle would never had let you live it down."

"I'm not going to live it down anyway," he reminded her sadly, just as she felt a horrible lurch somewhere inside her navel. Something hot and acidic burnt just the bottom of her windpipe. The last thing she needed was to make this encounter more awkward by puking all over poor Draco Malfoy.

"Um," she slurred, trying her very best to be coherent through her swimming head, "I think I'm going to go to…" a sudden wave of sickness came over her, and she shut her mouth as quickly as possible. She gagged, but thankfully was able to keep the contents of her stomach, which at this point she suspected consisted mostly of champagne. Why, exactly, had she had the bright idea to get this drunk in the first place? And her bed was so far away, she couldn't imagine walking to the kitchen door, let alone up two flights of stairs to her room.

Ugh, and her new dress was undoubtedly going to get soiled by sick. Daphne would kill her. Of course, it was rather ugly, but it was still her Maid of Honor's dress and her head was absolutely pounding and-

"Astoria?" Draco had spoken, but she didn't trust herself to open her mouth. "Do you think you should go inside?"

She nodded, but didn't move.

Draco fidgeted nervously. "Err… do you need help standing? Or…"

She nodded again and held out her hand so he could pull her up. She felt even more vulnerable than she did embarrassed, if that was even possible. She grabbed onto his arm and stumbled along as he guided her Merlin knew where, making a mental to curse herself later. To her relief, she heard the high pitched squeak of the kitchen door opening, and the even higher pitched squeak of Poppi, undoubtedly reprimanding her.

She slid into a chair. Or was it the floor?

Did it really matter? Her head was splitting as Poppi, the poor thing, squealed, and then Draco said something, and then Poppi, and then Draco, and then the door squeaked open again and slammed shut.

She felt familiar, elfish fingers sliding into hers. "Poppi will bring Miss to bed now," the elf said as soothingly as she could, and then there was a crack, and horrible blackness, and then the comfort of her sheets.

"Miss musn't-" Astoria wasn't at all interested in what she musn't do, and instead allowed herself to fall instantly asleep.


	2. The Day After

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._**

**The ****Day After**

Draco wasn't sure whether it was the persistent tapping noise or the brilliant sun that awoke him. "God damn stupid _Prophet_ owl," he grumbled, throwing the fine sheets off his legs and rushing to open the window. "You're supposed to bring that to my father, you know," he reprimanded it, but as he searched through yesterday's robes for a sickle he realized that the owl was not from the _Daily Prophet_ after all.

The owl was holding out its leg and glaring at him pointedly. "Oh, sorry," he said airily, as he quickly untied the letter. He wondered who would be writing him, as he had seen nearly everyone that he knew—or at least, everyone who was important—at Blaise's wedding the day before.

He tore open the letter, glanced at it, repressed a smirk, read it, and laughed.

_Mr. __Draco Malfoy—_

_ I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what I might have said to you or done, but thank you so much for bringing me in safely last night._

_ Most sincerely,_

_ Miss Astoria Greengrass_

Scribbled hastily under that was a post script:

_I made Poppi agree not to tell my mother that I came "stumbling l__ike a Squib into the kitchen in the early hours," but felt so horrible that I told her I'd write "that sweet pureblood boy" a letter of apology. I can't imagine what you possibly could have done to make her like you this much, she's even calling you "kind young Master Malfoy." But seriously, thanks._

_Also, Pansy__ said we disappeared into the darkness together…? _

_Also__ again, I _didn't _say anything terrible, did I?_

For all her drunkenness and impropriety, Draco couldn't help but to have gotten a rather good impression from Astoria Greengrass the night before. She had been easy enough to talk to, though perhaps that had been because he had had a rather noticeable cognitive advantage at the time.

Then again, she seemed to have remembered absolutely none of their conversation from the night before, and any of her kindness could have been attributed to obliviousness.

As he rummaged in his antique desk for a scrap of parchment and quill, he wondered why he had never noticed that she was so pleasant while they were at Hogwarts. He resolved that she must not have been pleasant at all, and that he was jumping to conclusions about her temperament after one brief, drunken conversation.

He scribbled something down quickly on the scrap of parchment and read it over once.

_Astoria-_

_ You have a very nice elf. No worries, we certainly did not disappear into the darkness together. We just happened to meet in the darkness and had a chat._

_ Though I do suggest you're more careful next time you drink half a champagne bottle. People talk, as you seem to have learned._

_ Honestly, though, everything's fine. _

_ Draco Malfoy._

He called her owl to him. "This addressed for Astoria Greengrass," he told it sternly, and as soon as he had fastened the letter to its leg it took off, hooting at him reproachfully. "God damn stupid owl," he said to himself, as he dressed in his day robes and made his way downstairs to breakfast.

Of course, they hadn't had a formal breakfast in a great while; the war seemed to have drained a little bit of the stiff formality out of him and the rest of his family. This lack of conversation, however, let him remember fondly the warmth of the Greengrass girl's hand on his arm and how sweetly mussed her hair had been.

For heaven's sake! It didn't really matter. She clearly hadn't remembered anything they had spoken about, and even if she had, she probably wouldn't want him thinking about her disheveled appearance, however endearing it might have been. Besides, the pancakes the cook had made him really were delicious, and he had a slew of errands to run in Diagon Alley that day. He needed to pick up his watch, which he had accidentally broken whilst flying, and was also due in to Gringotts to discuss something or other that his father couldn't be bothered with.

After he had finished his meal he grabbed his cloak and carefully slicked his hair to perfection. In fact, he became so engrossed in his outing that any lingering thoughts of Astoria Greengrass were completely pushed out of his head.

He might not have thought of the wedding at all if it hadn't been for Marcus Flint, whom he ran into outside of Flourish and Blotts. He had just come out of the store, having purchased several eagle feather quills and a few yards of parchment to be sent to him via owl posthaste, and Marcus had simply been passing. They had hailed each other politely, and in their small talk discovered they were both headed towards the Leaky Cauldron.

"Meeting Tracey for a drink," explained Marcus happily, and Draco wondered vaguely whether or not he should have been aware that they were dating.

"Ah, I'm just disapparating out," he explained, and they began discussing the events that had transpired the night before. It really had been quite fun, once Draco had gotten drunk enough to forget that someone very important was not in their midst.

Just before they entered the pub, Marcus mentioned, under his breath, "I noticed you went missing with the little Greengrass." He gave Draco a knowing smile, which Draco certainly did not return.

"I did run into her. She was pretty far gone. I took a bottle of champagne from her, I swear she must have drunk most of it herself, and brought her to their elf. Charming creature," he added, his eyes narrowed to slits.

Marcus raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but did not push the subject. Draco said goodbye to him as soon as they had entered into the tavern, and quickly disapparated away.

Just as soon as he had disappeared, he of course reappeared at the drive of the manor, and began walking briskly towards his home. _Honestly, _he thought, considering the events of the day. He wasn't surprised at Pansy Parkinson's interest in his love life; she had been trying to get back with him almost militantly since he had ended everything with her in the middle of their sixth year. She had always been rather whiny and annoying, but as his situation became more desperate some sort of Switching Spell seemed to have happened within him. Afterwards, he was simply unable to stand her constant simpering and fawning over him. She would probably be interested in which girls he was friendly with until he was married.

Marcus Flint, though: he was as thick as he was thickset, and rather oblivious to his surroundings, let alone gossip. If he knew that Draco and Astoria had been together last night –well, not _together _in the way Marcus thought, but certainly together in the most innocent sense of the word– then half the wizarding world must know. Or think they know, he corrected himself, because he hadn't, he reminded himself sternly, had anything more than a friendly conversation with Astoria Greengrass.

He let himself into the foyer, intent on locking himself in the study until dinner time, when his mother's voice rang out from the sitting room. "Draco, darling? Won't you come in here for a moment?"

It was only for her that he begrudgingly went into the sitting room: the only room that they had decided to distinguishably change during their restoration of the house three years prior. His mother was sitting on an ornate armchair near the fireplace, looking over the new golden spectacles which were perched on the end of her nose. "Sit down," she said, nodding towards the plush sofa across from her. She looked stern, so it was warily that he obeyed. He had a sinking feeling about the direction this conversation was going to take.

His mother was looked at him deliberately for a moment, undoubtedly to make it clear that she was, though not visibly angry, certainly annoyed and curious. Then she spoke.

"I have received a letter," she said, in a formal and lofty voice which he immediately associated with getting caught doing something he ought not to, like flying too far away from the estate or stealing cookies from the kitchen or making the house elf punish himself for no reason. "In this letter," she continued, "it has been brought to my attention that you might have been –acting rather inappropriately– with that Daphne girl's younger sister-"

Draco laughed in disbelief. "Merlin's- For the love of- For goodness sake- Mother! I'm _twenty!_" He sputtered, rising angrily from the couch and then pacing behind it.

"So you did sleep with her?" asked his mother, her voice deadpan.

"No!" he spat, clutching the back of the sofa and leaning towards her. "Despite what every pureblood in the country thinks, _I did not 'sleep with' Astoria Greengrass! _You know, you'd think it's been printed in the _Daily Prophet _for all that everyone's been saying!" He took a deep breath to continue, but-

"That's enough, dear," said his mother, though considerably more warmly than she had before. "Not that the Greengrasses aren't a lovely family, and I'd be more than happy if you married one of their daughters, but I mustn't have to remind you that having every pureblood in the country think you did something is nearly as bad as having actually done it."

"Alright, _Mother._" She didn't respond so he assumed he was allowed to leave, but just before he had gotten out the door he spun around and sat back on the sofa to address her.

"Who wrote to you that I'd been with Astoria Greengrass?"

His mother eyed him appraisingly, "Mrs. Greengrass, why?"

"How did she know I-?" he saw the look on his mother's face and backtracked. "I _talked _with Astoria, Mother. We had a lovely conversation about Hogwarts and the old days and I had to take a bottle of champagne from her or else she might have fainted into a rosebush, but that's all. I _talked _to her. What do you care who I sleep with, anyway?"

"She probably knows for the same reason everyone else knows. People talk, Draco. And the last thing this family needs is any more scandal. We stayed out of Azkaban by the skin of our teeth, and, if you haven't noticed, we're doing some serious work to regain our," she paused, searching for the right word, "_sway._"

Draco scowled. "It's not as if we'd go to prison even if I slept with every pureblood girl in the country."

His mother threw her head back and laughed, and he couldn't help but feel a surge of affection swell in his chest. "Certainly not, my dear. Certainly not. Now excuse me, I really ought to write Mrs. Greengrass back with my assurances of your denial."

"Enjoy yourself," said Draco, as he exited the room.

* * *

><p>That night Draco fell asleep reading by wandlight.<p>

Sometime later he woke with a start. For a few seconds he was disoriented, but then he grabbed his wand, still lit, and pointed it towards his window. There was that horrid owl, again tapping at his window persistently. Grateful that his parents slept across the house and on the next floor, he got up and let it in. "What does your mistress want now, stupid owl?" he asked it, though he was a little surprised at how not-annoyed he was to receive a letter at this hour. He eagerly untied it from the owl's leg and quickly grabbed a piece of parchment from somewhere.

_Got your letter. Sending your owl back now. _

He hesitated.

_Will write back properly in the morning._

_ —Draco._

After sending the owl off and settling onto his many pillows, Draco carefully opened the thick parchment envelope and held up his wand to see what Astoria had written. Her handwriting was just a little mussed, just like- 'Oh, for the love of God,' he thought, and began reading.

_Dear Draco,_

_ You won't believe the day I've been having, though maybe you will, considering it's probably been much the same as yours. I thought you might be interested to hear the other end of the story._

_ Just as soon as I got your reply (thank you, by the way, it was quite gracious and you are obviously very right about people talking) I received an owl from Daphne. She's off in Italy, of course, but unfortunately her new husband isn't enough to distract her from the supposed antics of her baby sister._

_ As I was reading _that _my mother comes storming in, demanding to know what exactly I had been thinking, and how you were probably just using me, and brandishing her _o_wn_ _letter from Daphne above her head. I tried to explain to her that nothing had happened, and she insisted I was lying. Then I showed her the note you wrote me and she insisted _you _were lying and resolved to write your mother, which I assume you already know. I believe she yelled something more but I wasn't really listening- my head was pounding till noon. And then she left all in a huff muttering about how my father would react. _

_ Of course, I thought I had heard the end of it, but then Tracey Davis pops in to see me. At first I thought it was a rather nice surprise, because we've never really been friendly, but of course she delves into how Marcus had met you in London and you had told him and he had told her that nothing happened and was that true, and did I fancy you and oh my goodness it was horrible. Eventually I fended her off and she left to go do whatever it is that Tracey Davis does._

_ Everything was quiet for a while and then my father came home and he was in a right state- before he could explode MY mother showed him the letter YOUR mother had written her. Whatever your dear mother wrote seemed to calm him, and he just scolded me to watch my behavior because, as we have learned, people talk._

_ We seem to have become the most popular topic in the wizarding world, haven't we? At least we've given everyone something to talk about, as if a wedding wasn't enough._

_ Hopefully we've heard the end of this,_

_ Astoria_

Draco shared Astoria's sentiment; he hoped that they'd heard the last of any rumors about their supposed interactions. However, he seriously doubted that. After all, they'd learned just how quickly words travelled among their peers, and sending letters in the night was not exactly the best way to diffuse rumors.

He placed the letter facedown on his night table and unlit his wand. However, after more than a few moments of tossing and turning he resolved that he simply was not going to be able to go back to sleep. It was just as well, because he'd been having terrible nightmares since—well, he'd been having terrible nightmares for the better part of the last three years. Longer, really.

Finally, he got out of bed and went over to his desk, turning on his kerosene lamp with a flick of his wand. He found a quill and a fresh roll of parchment.

_Dear Astoria,_

_ Yes, it seems that your day has mirrored mine. I swear, these people will believe anything…_


	3. The Love Notes

_**A/N: I'm so sorry this is late! I was busy doing homework and visiting family **__**and FINALLY getting into Pottermore and getting ready for Irene. (On that note, it's literally going to be here in a few hours and depending on how long we lose power the next update might be late, as well.) Those are all just excuses, though. I don't own Harry Potter. **_

**The Love Notes**

Tonight, had she had been looking out her window, Astoria would have seen that the dwindling light from the sky cast everything in a uniform shade of gray and few solitary raindrops were falling halfheartedly from the sky. The darkness had already fallen to such an extent that the hills farthest on the horizon, which could be seen so easily on a sunny day, would have been completely invisible to her. In short, it was a dreary scene, and Astoria was certainly able to find other and more interesting ways to amuse herself.

At present, Astoria was sprawled atop a massive crimson duvet, reading a sheaf of parchment by the glow of a fire roaring in the grate. Because it was the end of August the evening was still rather warm the blaze was being used only because it lit the room so well; Poppi the Elf was very adept at creating fires which gave off minimal heat. That was very convenient, because it enabled Astoria to forget about the fire and instead lose herself in the contents of the letter. Her expression was very serious, but every now and then a smile would find the edge of her eyes and her lips would turn up ever so slightly. She was very much engrossed.

The crackling pops of the fire were barely audible to her ears, though they were loud and the only sound in the room. Though she was enjoying the letter, which had been brought to her half an hour ago by her disgruntled owl, the slight heat from the fire was making her drowsy. Indeed, her eyelids were half closed when her bedroom door opened with a bang. She looked up in alarm, but once she realized its source she squealed in delight and caught her sister in a tight embrace.

"Daphie! When did you get back? How was Italy? How was…?" Astoria let her voice trail off significantly, meeting her sister's eye.

"Everything was perfect!" Daphne seemed to be radiating light even more than the fireplace. "Everything was _sunny," _she sighed, letting herself fall onto the younger girl's bed. Astoria wondered how Daphne had been able to maintain her snow white skin even under the Italian sun, but then, he sister had always took special care to retain her aesthetic. They sat in happy silence for a moment, and then Daphne continued: "We got home this afternoon. It was hellish—we had to apparate practically halfway across the Continent to get to a portkey."

Astoria rolled her eyes. Her sister hated long-distance apparating and was especially bad at it. "How far, exactly?"

Sure enough, Daphne blushed. "Oh, really just to Rome. Then we portkeyed to Paris and then London. But still! I can't wait to show you the new house," Daphne added, clearly keen to change the subject. Astoria decided to humor her.

"I'm sure it's lovely," she said, but soon her hands were grabbed by her sister and she was cut off.

"Tell me everything that's happened while I was away."

Astoria raised her eyebrows. "I'm not exactly the one to be asking. Don't you have Tracey for that?"

There as a small pause. That meant Daphne was formulating her words, which meant she must be about to say something Astoria wouldn't be fond of. "Well, she's told me a few things in reference to you that I'd like to clarify."

"What about me?" Astoria narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

Daphne cleared her throat. That was a bad sign. "She said that you've been receiving _love notes _from Draco Malfoy."

It had been weeks since the rumors about Astoria and Draco had fizzled out. Of course Tracey would stir up something like this, but Daphne should have known better than to _believe _it. It wasn't exactly a secret that Astoria and Draco were corresponding, but he certainly wasn't writing her _love notes. _There was nothing remotely romantic about the arrangement at all. It was actually rather impersonal.

In fact, writing to Draco had evolved into something more like keeping a diary. Sometimes Astoria would tell him if anything silly had happened during her day—such as when her father had come home with a cloak far too large for him after a night out with Horace Slughorn—but more often she'd talk about her days as "Baby Greengrass" and how she'd always felt like she was in her sister's shadow. She told him everything, and it was perfect because he would never really address those things when he wrote back. She didn't want condolences.

Draco didn't tell her everything. He never wrote about the war and seldom spoke about the year leading up to it. Instead he would tell her about how mundane his days were or how strangely Crabbe and Goyle had behaved one Christmas, when they'd stayed at school over break. But he undoubtedly had a cauldronful of secrets of which he never spoke a word.

Astoria had heard the rumors just as well as the rest of the wizarding world. There were some that she believed: that they'd impersonated government officials or that they'd been inseparable from Bellatrix Lestrange. There were some that she didn't: that they'd held prisoners in their cellar or that they'd harbored the Dark Lord in their own home.

"Astoria, he _is!_" Daphne seemed to have taken Astoria's lack of an answer as confirmation to the theory.

"Merlin, no! Daphne!" Astoria exclaimed. "He is most definitely not writing me 'love notes.'" She watched as Daphne's light eyes studied her for a moment, but apparently they decided she was telling the truth.

"Mhm," murmured Daphne, as she got up and made her way towards Astoria's armoire, which had long since been bewitched to hold much more clothing than would appear. Without invitation she opened the doors and disappeared into the mass of robes and gowns.

"What are you doing?" snapped Astoria, as she too rose and went into her closet.

Daphne held up a dress, scrunched her face in disgust, and continued searching through Astoria's clothes. "I'm finding you something to wear tomorrow. We're going out for formal tea." The sudden change in her sister's behavior worried Astoria—either the conversation had bored her, or she was up to something sinister. The fact that Daphne had told Astoria what they were doing rather than asking didn't faze her at all, as she was very used to Daphne bossing her around.

"Why?"

Daphne put on her most innocent face. "Why? Why because you're my sister and I've missed you these past weeks." She pulled out high-necked navy gown and actually laughed aloud. "Who are you? Rowena Ravenclaw?" She hung it up much more violently than Astoria felt was necessary.

"That's from almost two years ago!" Astoria defended herself, as she resigned to helping search for something to wear. "And seriously," she added, deciding that it was better to bring up the previous topic than to leave it unfinished. "Draco and I are most definitely not writing each other 'love notes.'"

"But you are writing each other," Daphne observed.

"Well yes," Astoria muttered, shooting her most dangerous look in her sister's direction. "But I also regularly write other people."

"Oh, so you write each other _regularly?_" Daphne was now pondering a black dress.

Astoria scowled. "You are a terrible sister. And yes, we are writing regularly. But that doesn't mean anything. You didn't write Blaise regularly. Tracey doesn't write Marcus Flint regularly."

Daphne looked up from the gown and smiled. "Honestly, Astoria. Do you actually think Marcus Flint knows how to read?" They burst into laughter. "I have no idea what Tracey sees in him."

"She was here the other day," giggled Astoria. "She said that he had 'other talents' whatever those might be."

After a moment, Daphne hung the black gown up and took Astoria's arm, guiding her out of the armoire. "I'm going to trust you to decide what to wear tomorrow, but don't you dare embarrass me. Now, I've really got to get back. I promised Blaise I'd only be gone for a little while." She pecked Astoria on the cheek. "I'll come by at two to get you. I haven't decided where we're going yet." Astoria sat on her bed and watched her sister leave the room. She wondered whether or not she was happy to have Daphne back.

A few inconclusive moments later, she dove down so that her head was again at the foot of the bed, picked up Draco's letter, and resumed reading. In a few minutes, she was again so engrossed that she temporarily forgot that her sister had even come to visit. Once she had finished it she put it beside her and lay for a moment, then pulled out her wand and summoned ink and parchment.

* * *

><p>The next day, a little past two, Astoria descended downstairs and made her way into the kitchen. Normally, they would never have guests there, but Daphne could hardly be considered a guest. Besides, that was where the family generally apparated into; if anyone apparated directly into a different part of the house Poppi would know that they were either an intruder or a spectacularly rude houseguest.<p>

Indeed, shortly after Astoria took a seat at the table, where she and Daphne had taken their tea as children, there was an unusually loud crack, and then Daphne had tumbled down onto the floor. At the sound, Astoria had jumped out of her chair in alarm, and then tried not to smile as she helped her sister up.

"Well," said Daphne breathlessly, as she straightened out her dress. It was gray but certainly not matronly; its skirt swept down to the floor, but it also showed enough of her chest to make their mother blush—in fact, it was fortunate their mother wasn't present, or else she might have forced Daphne to go upstairs and find something of Astoria's to wear.

Apparently, as Astoria had been inspecting Daphne's attire Daphne had been inspecting hers. She had opted for a gown of dusty rose. Her neckline wasn't modest, but it didn't rival Daphne's. "You look alright," said Daphne, which caused Astoria to beam, for her sister would have undoubtedly jumped at the chance to criticize Astoria's clothing. When they were younger, Astoria would have sworn that it was Daphne's favorite thing to do.

"You look alright too."

They stood in silence for a moment.

"Well, where are we off to?" asked Astoria, adjusting her hat.

"I told the girls to meet us at the Harried Hare. I hope you don't mind."

Astoria rolled her eyes. "Not at all."

There were two things which Astoria minded. The first was that the Harried Hare was possibly her least favorite place in the world. Once, generations and generations ago, it had been nothing more than a dingy pub, but sometime between its founding and Astoria's childhood it had morphed into an eatery respectable enough for girls like Daphne and Astoria to bee seen in while out with friends.

What Astoria minded in particular was the fact that Daphne had invited along Tracey and Pansy. Well, Astoria had to admit she had taken a liking to Tracey while her sister had been away. She was devious and melodramatic, but also amusing and easy to be around. Pansy was the problem. Pansy had always been the problem.

There really was no reason for Astoria to dislike her. Pansy had always treated her well enough. She'd been a little rude and pretentious, but that was a trait all the Parkinsons shared and it was generally accepted that they couldn't help it. There was just something unlikable about Pansy; it was like she sucked all the air out of a room. She lacked the charisma Astoria had grown so accustomed to, being brought up around Slytherins.

However, they were all getting together to welcome Daphne home, and she would surely want her best friends there. Sighing, Astoria grabbed her sister's hand. "I'm taking you by side-along." It wasn't a question. It was a miracle Daphne hadn't yet splinched herself into oblivion.

* * *

><p>The Harried Hare was in London, a few streets down from Diagon Alley, and its aesthetic was admittedly quite pleasing. Though the floor, walls, tables, and chairs were all made plainly and out of wood, the walls were littered with portraits of witches and wizards in handsome dress robes, and an expansive emerald green rug covered most of the dining room floor. It was more the patronage that bothered Astoria; for some reason, those who frequented the place were very grave and made her feel rather claustrophobic.<p>

Daphne's friends were already there when she arrived with Astoria, and Tracey waved them over with a smile. When they sat, she clapped her hands as quietly as she could and kissed Daphne on the cheek, earning her a reproving look from an old warlock at the next table over. Pansy smiled brightly. "How are you? How was Italy? How's Blaise?"

Their questions were endless, but Astoria was just as interested in the answers as the other girls. Indeed, she was still listening contentedly as her sister began describing Blaise's apparent new job.

"It's with the Ministry, of course. The Department of International Something-or-Other. It's really rather exciting, actually. He's just doing deskwork until this time next year, but then he's going to the-what was it?- Wizarding Union of Persian and Arabic States!"

"Is that a country now?" asked Pansy, as she daintily picked up a cauldron cake.

"I have no idea," fluttered Daphne.

Tracey caught Astoria's eye before jumping to the aid of her friends. "No, they're all different nations. They just work together to keep the muggles from blowing each other up."

"Oh dear, can they really do that?" Daphne looked horrified but indifferent.

Tracey shrugged. "I suppose so, or else there wouldn't be a WUPAS, would there?" She paused to sip her pumpkin juice. "But that's all terribly boring, isn't it? I want to hear about your little sister's love story. I hear you've been speaking with someone?"

Astoria tried to decide which curse would be best to use on Daphne, but her sister only raised her eyebrows and smiled wickedly. "Yes, Astoria. I was wondering about him, too."

Pansy's eyes lit up. "Oh? Who?"

"Draco Malfoy," gushed Tracey. They all watched as Pansy's faced dropped.

"Oh," said Pansy. Then, after a moment, "You oughtn't to get involved with him, you know."

Tracey and Daphne looked rather satisfied. Astoria decided the killing curse would do, but smiled as sweetly as she could. "We are most definitely not involved. Honestly. Though it does seem that if I even say 'good morning' to a boy, there are rumors about me seeing him."

"I'm not saying this to hurt you," Pansy began. Astoria was surprised at how genuine Pansy's voice was; if she didn't know her well enough, she might not have thought it was a ruse.

Pansy looked steadily into Astoria's eyes, but Astoria flicked her gaze to Daphne and Tracey, both of whom seemed very amused. Pansy continued. "He uses women. He did it to me." She looked morose. Astoria decided that this was real, and she did feel a little for Pansy. "He just dated me because I was popular." Any sympathy Astoria had immediately dissolved. She bit her lip to keep herself from smiling, and was almost certain she heard her sister snicker.

"That's terrible," quipped Tracey, her voice a little too gleeful.

"I know. He only wanted me because everyone else did, and then when he decided he was too good for me, what with working for the Dark Lord and all, he broke up with me." Pansy was tearing up, and whether it was a show or not it looked very genuine. But Astoria had learned not to trust Pansy Parkinson a long time ago.

"I don't want you to get hurt. You're so young and innocent," continued Pansy. "I can't help but still be in love with him, but you, why, you could avoid such heartbreak all together." There was a pause.

"Promise me you won't let yourself get hurt by Draco Malfoy."

Astoria felt very awkward. "Pansy, it's not like that between us, we're not even really-"

"Promise me."

It wasn't like it was an Unbreakable Vow, so Astoria decided to go along, because it would get Pansy to leave her alone for at least a little while.

"I promise I won't let myself get hurt by Draco Malfoy." This really was quite silly. After a few of receiving his letters Astoria knew a thing or two _about_ Draco, but she still didn't think she could say with any honesty that she knew him.

"Good," said Pansy, her voice considerably less watery. "I'm happy to hear that."

Soon after the conversation changed course, much to Astoria's relief, but Astoria couldn't help but notice the shred of truth in Pansy's words. She could honestly say that her feelings towards Draco were not in the least romantic, but there was something undeniably magnetic about him, or perhaps just his words. She decided that it was best to be careful about him, after all.


	4. The Hearts

_**What? I haven't posted in like, over a month? Nonsense! (I'm sorry. There was the hurricane and then school started and oh my goodness. But to make it up to you two updates this weekend.) **__**Also, the title will be explained towards the end of the fic.  
>Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.<strong>_

**The**** Hearts**

It had been four days since the arrival of Astoria's most recent letter, but it still lay face up on the writing desk. Draco had yet to reply. There had been something off about this letter, something unsettlingly different. On the first day he convinced himself it must have just been his imagination, and resolved to sleep on the matter. On the second day he had begun to read it again, but was immediately put off and decided that he hadn't given himself enough time. On the third day he had resolved that something was different, but he couldn't place what it was. That was why today, on the fourth day, he carefully removed her other letters from the secret compartment in his desk. As he did this, he realized it was rather foolish to be putting them there to begin with; it wasn't as if he had something to hide.

He extracted two letters from the pile. The first was the most recent:

_Dear Draco,_

_You won't believe who just came knocking on my bedroom door-Daphne! Well, I suppose she didn't have the tact or (more likely) the respect to knock, but it's really all the same. She's returned from Italy as radiant and grating as ever. As soon as she was done telling me about what a _hassle _it had been to apparate to Rome from the beaches, a sob story, I know, she flew right into asking whether or not we were writing love notes, of all things. I don't know where these people are getting their ideas from. Well I do—Tracey Davis. _

_It's amazing how Daphne managed to bother me just hours after she returned to the country, she even began going through my things. I don't know why she feels so entitled to everything I own. When I was little I promised myself I would put a stop to it the time she stole my racing broom. I must have been eight or nine at the time… Eight, I suppose, because Daphne hadn't started Hogwarts yet, I don't think. Anyway, I'd gotten it for Christmas after some significant begging. At first Daddy was really against it, he said girls didn't need racing brooms and that it was improper, but Mum got it for me anyway. She wasn't too keen on it either, but she said I could have it as long as I only used it out in the hills behind our house; nobody lives there for miles and miles. (Come to think of it, I have no idea where else they thought I'd by flying. It's not as if I had anywhere to go.) _

_ So, it was a Cleansweep Six and I thought it was perfect, I was young. Daphne was _so_ jealous of me, which was actually quite nice, having her be the jealous one for a change. She said that it wasn't fair, but of course it was. She'd asked for a Wireless and a wardrobe that finds your clothes for you, and she'd gotten them. _

_ That Spring I became quite ill. Nothing too serious, but it made Daphne doubly jealous because Poppi was too busy taking care of me to play whatever silly games with her. Daphne went off but didn't tell anyone, except for Poppi, and really she'd just said that she was going outside, not that she was going to ride a racing broom around our grounds. I don't know if you know this, but Daphne's a terrible flyer, and I think she must have fallen off some twenty feet up and broken her ankle. She was all by herself and obviously far too young to apparate, so she was stuck there until that evening when she was supposed to be in for supper. _

_ She was missing for an hour or so and everyone was in a frenzy. Soon enough they found her and she was crying and making an ordeal of it, and I lay forgotten in my bed, while our parents swooped down on her to make sure she was alright. They fixed her up in no time, but she was shaken and enjoying finally being the one who everyone was interested in again, and she put on a show for a few days about being nervous. _

_ In the end, my father said that racing brooms were obviously too dangerous for little girls and he took it away._

_ I never was able to stop Daphne from taking my things, though. I suppose the next time she does that I should hex her when she's not looking. I suppose it's a rather weaselish thing to do, but I really did love that broomstick._

_Sincerely, Astoria _

Draco couldn't help but smile at the story. As he learned more about Astoria, he had been finding that she was refreshingly different than the girls he'd hung around with at school. She wasn't as falsely proper or pretentious- but off he was again, making assumptions about her. He reminded himself firmly that she'd only written him a few anecdotal letters. As much as he felt like he was getting to know her, the last time he saw her was weeks ago, and she'd been horribly drunk at the time. A moment later he was awash with a wave of embarrassment, for he'd just realized how often he'd needed to remind himself of that in the past weeks.

In fact, it was simply ridiculous how wound up he'd gotten because she'd taken a little while longer to reply to his last owl; she undoubtedly had better things to do than sit by her window and await for his response, and he _did _have better things to do than sit around and wait for hers. As if on cue, Draco heard a tapping at his window, but when he'd flown across the room and thrown up the glass he saw that it was not Astoria's wicked little owl.

"Hello, Ola," he murmured, for it was still a very familiar owl, and Draco couldn't help but smile as he untied the note from its leg. He would know the large, untidy scrawl anywhere:

_ READY TO GO TO BLAISE'S? I'LL BE THERE RIGHT AFTER OLA._

Draco was quite glad no one could see his face turning pink as he collected all of Astoria's letters and stuffed them away in their unnecessarily secret compartment. He was also thankful that he had not yet gotten ready for bed, so all he had to do was smooth his hair down before Goyle came storming into his room, throwing the door open as if he could just barge right in there.

"You excited?" Goyle asked, smiling cheerfully.

Draco furrowed his brow. "What exactly am I excited for, again?"

"Blaise's!" Goyle gave Draco a very exasperated look. Draco tried not to smile. "Didn't you get my letter?"

"I did. However, it wasn't really what I would call enlightening." A blank stare. "Specific." Another. "Clear."

"Their housewarming party!"

"Wasn't there already one?"

Goyle shrugged. "Blaise told me that there was a 'public' one, and a 'private' one. He said 'on the request of the lovely Daphne Zabini.'" They both snickered.

"Ugh, she's made him disgusting," Draco said, but without any malice, "and really, that girl would use any excuse to have a party."

Goyle made a low grunt which Draco had come to associate with agreement. "Well, hurry up then," murmured Draco, as he turned on the spot.

For this kind of party it was perfectly acceptable to apparate directly into the house. Well, technically speaking it was against all sorts of conventions of etiquette which had been drilled into all of the guest's heads when they were younger, but this was the type of party from which etiquette was temporarily banished.

They were some of the first to arrive, and as soon as they appeared Daphne accosted them with greetings and firewhiskey. "Have some!" she said, shoving the bottle into their faces and glasses into their hands. Goyle was taken off guard and followed orders immediately, as he was one to do. Draco just smiled and politely declined, looking around.

Tracey was sitting in her boyfriend's lap, her legs slung across the arm of their chair in a way that would make Mrs. Davis sputter and faint. Blaise was sitting across from them, laughing a little too loudly with a glass in his hand. Draco imagined that Daphne must have just been with him, though now she was chattering away to Goyle, who almost certainly wasn't listening. Just as he was about to ask who else was coming, there was a shout of "Draco! Come sit with us!" from behind him; it was a voice which he had the displeasure of being unable to forget.

He turned around to see Pansy waving him over to the sofa on which she sat. As he was trying to think of a way to decline without sending her into a rage, he noticed who was sitting next to her, and then reprimanded himself on how stupid he had been not to realize that Astoria would be invited, seeing as she was the hostess's sister. Sighing, he walked in their direction, hoping that he'd be able to endure Pansy long enough to have a conversation with Astoria.

As soon as he sat down he questioned why he was subjecting himself to this; Pansy moved so that there was less than an inch between them, and leaned a little too evidently in his direction.

"Astoria, this is Draco," she said, with an edge in her voice Draco associated with discussing important House Quidditch matches. "In case you don't remember him."

They all knew what she was referring to, and Astoria blushed at her butterbeer, but there was a hint of something hard in her eyes. "Er, yeah, I actually do remember."

Draco felt for her. "Pansy, don't be silly! We _did _go to school together for five years. I certainly hope that Astoria knows who I am."

"Oh, but I forgot," said Pansy, in a way that made it clear she had been bursting to say this all evening, "haven't you become good friends?"

He didn't know what to say, not just because it was an impertinent question but because now that it had been asked, he wasn't sure of the answer. He glanced quickly up at Astoria and saw that her expression echoed his own misgivings. She raised her eyebrows. One of them would have to speak before Pansy pushed even further and made the situation even more horrifying.

For the past few weeks Draco had been reminding himself that he and Astoria were _not _good friends, so he figured he might be able to convince Pansy of the same.

"Pansy, you read too much into things. We haven't said anything of consequence. It's all childish fun, really." He spoke as airily as he could and feigned disinterest. Those were two things he had become very good at over his Hogwarts career.

"Nonsense!" smiled Pansy. "Surely you've grown fond of the little Greengrass after sending letters her everyday!"

"Not really, she's sweet girl, of course," Draco had become so accustomed to speaking about people as if they weren't there that he didn't realize he was doing it until it was too late. "And not everyday," he continued, smiling uncomfortably, "Now that you mention it, I don't think Astoria's answered my last little note, have you?" He tried to sound as apathetic about it as possible, as if he hadn't just spent the better part of four days waiting for her reply.

Apparently it had worked; he glanced over pleasantly at Astoria, whose eyes were wide in anger. It hadn't occurred to him that she might take what he said to Pansy seriously. No one ever took Pansy seriously

Except for, apparently, Astoria. Her voice was shaking on the edge of rage, "Oh, no. I suppose I haven't. I just thought that as it was all such a waste of time that you wouldn't mind."

Before Draco had a chance to respond Astoria had already risen from her seat. He watched as she stormed over to her sister and stooped to whisper something in her ear, but then Pansy had moved still closer towards him and spoke, her voice low. He could feel her breath on his ear. "What's the matter with her? A little mad, don't you think?"

"Stop it, Pansy." She jerked back from him and crossed her arms, but the sides of their legs were still touching. "You don't have to be so mean to people all the time."

"Mean?" Pansy laughed. "I'm not the one toying with little girls' hearts, am I?" She touched a pink bow in her hair and leaned towards him ever so slightly. "I know you don't want someone like her, Draco. I know you've been confused because of," she paused, "everything that's happened. I haven't minded waiting, for you to realize you need me." She patted his knee. "But it's getting old, so hurry up, will you?" With that, she got up and sauntered across the room.

After a moment's consideration, Draco concluded that he had earned some time to fume and wallow in guilt. He was furious with Pansy, but he was also furious at himself for ruining things with Astoria. Not that there had been things with Astoria, but there definitely had been potential things with her. And maybe he had been slightly interested in those possibilities, after all. He figured it was okay to admit it to himself now that he had successfully splinched any chances he might have had with her.

He didn't mind anger as much as he minded guilt. It was, in his opinion, the worst of all emotions and whoever invented it really ought to be introduced to the Cruciatus Curse. Or maybe a dementor. He wasn't overly upset about hurting Astoria. Of course he wished he hadn't and was cursing himself over various things which he had said, but it was the aura of guilt which rocketed to his core to give off its icy glow.

Draco decided that, in the interest of self preservation, he really should leave before Daphne got drunk enough to make a scene. She liked melodrama almost as much as she liked throwing parties, and he thought it best to spare the rest of her guests the chaos that would ensue.

He wouldn't tell anyone that he was going. That was one of the perks of this kind of gathering; one could come and go as they pleased, provided they were well-liked by the crowd. However, just as he stood to disapparate, Blaise stood from across the room and caught his eye. Draco would have to stay and see what he wanted.

"Hey," Blaise said, approaching. He held a half empty bottle of firewhiskey in his hand. This could get interesting.

"Hi."

Blaise took a deep breath. "First off, you're not going to like what I'm about to say, but we've been friends since we were eleven and I never asked you for anything." Draco stared blankly for a moment. "You need to lay off Astoria, alright? I know you're going to say that-"

"Daphne put you up to this?"

"Yeah." Blaise smiled. "And she did. But Astoria actually is a nice girl, and there's no need to go playing around with her feelings." He paused for a moment, and made sure everyone else in the room was preoccupied in their own conversations. "I mean, she's gorgeous—almost as gorgeous as Daphie, even—but there are tons of good-looking witches with hearts that are just as easy to senselessly break."

Draco was reminded of why he always liked Blaise, but still felt obligated to explain himself. "I wasn't trying to-"

"Honestly, mate, I get it. I was the same way before Daphne. You can crush the hearts of all the available witches in Britain, for all I care, so long as you keep Astoria out of it: Because if you hurt Astoria you hurt Daphne, and that isn't something you want to do. Besides, I like liking you."

It would be easier to just play along, Draco concluded. "If you insist," he said, trying to sound vaguely disappointed but not quite upset.

Blaise clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man. Now, come join the party." He raised the hand in which he held the firewhiskey bottle.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Blaise, how much of that have you actually drunk?"

Blaise smiled sheepishly, and leaned forward to be absolutely certain that no one else could hear. "I've been vanishing it. You know how Daphie gets; she'd end up accidentally shooting flames at herself—or someone else—if there's nobody to keep an eye on her. Speaking of that, I wonder where she's got to?"

They looked around for a moment but neither of them could spot her.

"I was actually about to leave." Draco thought it would be best to mention this before he was dragged into a search of the house.

Blaise smiled. "See you, then. Wait!" she shouted, just as Draco was about to turn on the spot.

"Next time Goyle invites you to the Leaky Cauldron with us, come. He's not exactly a prime conversationalist."

Draco snickered. "Well, I suppose I can't say no to that. I'll spare you."


	5. The Flowers

_**So, sorry that these last two chapters have been super serious. I hope you guys don't mind. The next few will be significantly more lighthearted, so hang in there. **_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**_

**The**** Flowers**

Astoria sat on the Daphne's kitchen counter; eyes welled up with angry tears. This, of course, made her all the more furious, which is what precipitated the first tear to fall—then the next, and the next, and then she was sitting there, weeping with abandon.

How could she have been so stupid? She had actually thought that her letters were somewhat meaningful to Draco. Sure, she hadn't expected him to fall madly in love with her, but she had told him so many of her apparently childish thoughts and assumed that he was doing the same. But she should have known, in fact, she hadknown. She could tell that he'd barely told her anything of consequence, and he must have assumed she was doing the same. He probably hadn't even hurt her intentionally! This caused another wave of fury to wash over her; _how could she have been so stupid?_

She was jolted out of her thoughts when she spotted her sister, swaying slightly in the kitchen doorway. Astoria conjured a handkerchief and tried to dry her eyes as discreetly as possible, but it she knew it was a futile attempt. Thankfully, Daphne either decided to ignore this or was too drunk to notice, and at that point, Astoria didn't particularly care.

"Astoria Greengrass," Daphne's words were only slightly slurred, which was a good sign. "What on Earth did Draco say to you? Or was it Pansy? You're," she looked around the room, "rather like a faucet, at the moment."

Astoria couldn't help but smile. "He didn't say anything to me, it's just…" This was not a conversation she wanted to have with Daphne, at least right now.

"I'm drunk, not dumb. Now, tell me what he said."

"I already did; he didn't say-"

"Tell me!"

"Honestly, you're being ridiculous."

"Tell!"

"Daphne, stop shouting!"

There was a moment of silence.

"Fine. Fine, it doesn't matter anyway." Daphne crossed the room and attempted to hoist herself up onto the counter next to Astoria. She succeeded on the second try. "You know, I'm kind of happy you guys fell apart. He's bad news."

"There wasn't ever anything to fall apart," sighed Astoria, "And Pansy drove home the point that he'll use me and throw me away like a broken broom when we were at the Harried Hare. I get it."

"No, not that. I mean, he would. But let's be reasonable here. Astoria, he was a Death Eater."

"I'm quite aware. And you were aware as well, in your sixth year, if I recall correctly. You didn't have a problem with it then."

"Of course we didn't." Daphne dismissed this with vague wave of the hand. "It was glamorous, and we all sympathized with the Dark Lord's message; but who wouldn't?" Daphne's voice was becoming clearer. Perhaps she was not as drunk as Astoria had first anticipated.

"I don't see what your problem is. You all sympathized with the message, and he was the only one who actually did anything about it. At least he stuck to his convictions."

Daphne smacked Astoria on the arm, a little too seriously. "Look at me." Astoria complied. She'd almost never seen this level of seriousness in her sister's eyes.

"We sympathized with his message. Some more than others. I was actually a little bit skeptical, to be honest. I mean, that Hermione Granger girl could do anything and she was a mudblood, and Tracey has some muggle in her, though you could never get her to admit it…" Daphne cleared her throat. "Anyway, the point is, we agreed with the message, not the means."

"I don't get what you're saying."

Daphne rolled her eyes. "Yes, you do. You were there when they took those poor mudblood children off the Hogwarts Express. You know what they did to them. The first years didn't even know that there was a reason to go into hiding, and then they just—" Daphne's voice was quivering. Astoria couldn't help but feel as if a crystal ball had been dropped into the pit of her stomach.

"You didn't do anything about it. Blaise didn't either, why is he okay but Draco isn't?"

Astoria almost pulled away as Daphne grabbed her hand, but something in her made her humor her sister. "'Storia, why are you making excuses for him?"

"I am not 'making excuses for him.'" Maybe she was, but Astoria knew she didn't have a good reason to and didn't want her sister to think she was desperate.

"I, for one, put up with him because he's familiar and must have done something to make Harry Potter testify on his behalf. Besides, nobody wants to cross the Malfoy family. Galleons are power. But we don't know what he did, on the Dark Lord's orders or not. We don't know what he's capable of."

"Stop being such a hypocrite, Daphne. Blaise considered becoming a Death Eater, you know that better than anyone else!" Astoria seemed to have crossed a line, and Daphne's breath hitched and she spoke with a true authority, one she almost never assumed.

"But he _didn't _become one of them, did he? Do you know what we did, right after we got into the Hog's Head?"

Astoria did know. Daphne, Blaise, Tracey, and countless other sixth and seventh year Slytherins had grabbed the hands of younger students, taking them to safety. They'd gone to the houses of all the witches and wizards they knew to spread the word: it was time to fight, if you were willing. Of course, people had been keen to overlook the role the Slytherins had played; the students who had been forced to flee, not allowed to stay and fight, but who had come back anyway. They were the unsung heroes of the night.

"Now," said Daphne, "What did Draco do?"

Astoria opened her mouth to answer, but the fact of the matter was that she didn't know. No one did.

"Face it," Daphne murmured, sliding off the counter, "The boy is bad news."

Astoria watched as Daphne wove her way out of the unused kitchen, and then realized just how tired she had become. She didn't know if it was because of her excessive crying or the memory of that horrible night, but either way she longed for her warm, crimson sheets, and perhaps the squeakily reassuring voice of Poppi fretting over her affairs.

She found something to write with, left a note for Daphne, and turned on the spot.

Despite her sister's surprisingly wise words, Astoria couldn't help but spend the next week hoping Draco would send her an apology; though she knew this was foolish, as he technically hadn't done anything wrong. Astoria had even considered that it was her turn to write him and that he might be waiting for her reply, but every time she sat down with quill and parchment she didn't know what to say. She didn't want to tell him anything too personal, but her days had become so mundane that she never had anything of substance to say.

At that point she realized her letters from Draco really _had _been the only exotic thing in her life. As much as she had been excited for her first year out of Hogwarts, she realized that she now had absolutely nothing to do. Daphne had always been social, so she'd never had this problem. Even if she had, Astoria thought, one dreary September afternoon, it wouldn't have mattered because there was so much volunteer work to be done after the war.

That was when she'd first had the idea to get a job.

Her first thought was that her father would never allow it. She could just imagine him, eyebrows raised doubtfully, laughing, "But Astoria, what do you need to work for?" However, after some consideration she thought she might be able to pull it off, though she would need to tread carefully and ask him under the most optimal conditions.

She put her plan into action on the last Tuesday of September. That morning, she made her way into the kitchen right after her father had left for work. When she got there, she looked around. Poppi wasn't in her bed, as she'd anticipated. Where would a house elf be at six o'clock on a Tuesday morning?

"Poppi?"

Poppi's pointed ears appeared above the rim of a large cooking pot, and Astoria was a little surprised at the ease with which the elf pulled herself out of it and landed dexterously on her feet, sponge in hand. "Does Miss want something?"

"Er, yes actually," Astoria said, a little guilty for interrupting the elf's work. "I was wondering if you would make pheasant for supper."

Poppi's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Miss hates pheasant."

"Well, yes, but I was wondering if—"

"Poppi will do whatever Miss asks, of course," said the elf, as she began scrubbing the outside of the cooking pot with aggression, "but she is wondering what Miss is going to ask of Master Garrick."

Astoria blushed, but didn't say anything. Poppi stopped scrubbing in alarm. "If Miss doesn't mind Poppi asking, of course."

"No that's fine," said Astoria quickly, "but it's a bit of a secret, okay?"

"Mhm," Poppi murmured, vaguely, once again engrossed in her work.

Next, Astoria found her mother. She'd had to wait a few hours, until her mother was very much awake, before approaching her with the news. She found her in the "sewing room," which was really just what Astoria's mother called her study. In fact, Astoria wasn't sure whether or not anything had ever actually been sewn in there, seeing as Poppi mended all of their clothes in the kitchen. In any case, that was where Mrs. Greengrass was, absorbed in a large and dusty tome.

"Mum," said Astoria, hesitantly. Her mother looked over her spectacles.

"Yes, Astoria?"

"I'm going to ask Daddy if I can get a job."

Her mother set the book aside, which was a sign that she was engaged. Astoria didn't yet know if this was a good or bad thing. "Why?" The tone wasn't accusatory or judgmental, just curious. Astoria wasn't sure how to answer. She stood in silence for a moment, and then all of the words came out in a rush.

"There's never anything to do around her, and I'm bored. I'm not like Daphne who can drink herself into oblivion and go out with her friends and make her fun that way. It's not like I need money, but I did get seven N.E.W.T.s and I'd rather like to put them to use. I feel like I should be doing something with my brain."

"Good," said Mrs. Greengrass, clapping her hands together once. "Tell that to your father. But leave out the part about Daphne's habits. And maybe mention what you'd like to do. Oh, and go pick some flowers."

Astoria's mother picked up her book and resumed reading. "Flowers?"

"Yes." Her mother turned the page. "From the rose garden! You know how your father likes to be reminded of how important his family is. Don't forget to wear your dragonhide gloves."

And so Astoria found herself outside in the mid September sun, picking roses. She'd bewitched a basked to float along beside her, and was carefully severing the roses which were still in the best condition. Even so, she couldn't believe she was doing this. It was practically elf's work! It was one thing to take care of the plants in Herbology class, but that had been for educational purposes and the plants were actually good for something. Roses were just roses.

No, she corrected herself, stopping down to collect a thirteenth and final flower. These were good for getting her father in a good mood, and that was good for getting her a job. She carefully aimed her wand some ten inches away from the bloom and cut it with a swift flick, before hovering it into the basket. She was about to stand again when she noticed something out of place on the gravel, a few feet away.

It must have been a brown stone that somehow got mixed up with all of the grey. However, once she knelt to pick it up she saw that it wasn't a rock but a little cork, like the kind used to stopper a bottle of wine. She rolled it around in her fingers and soon found a memory she'd thought she'd forgotten, and a smile flitted across her face.

Trying to unstopper the bottle and sending the cork zooming away into the darkness. Draco Malfoy's face, slightly illuminated by the golden light of her sister's pavilion. A melancholy feeling and a sudden wave of sickness.

She shook herself out of her thoughts. There was a lot to do. As she stood, she slipped the cork into the pocket of her robes. She told herself it was so as to throw it away once she got inside.

However, Astoria did not throw the cork away. Once she'd gone inside and arranged the roses in a tall, crystal vase which Poppi had produced from somewhere or other, Astoria went upstairs and dropped the cork into the drawer in which she kept all of Draco's letters. She really ought to get around to disposing of them, but that was for another day.

That night, it seemed as if Astoria had treated herself to some Felix Felicis before going down to supper. Her father was talking excitedly about something good which had happened in his department of the Ministry and he was absolutely delighted when Poppi appeared with the pheasant on a silver platter.

About halfway through the main course he turned to Astoria, smiling. "Well, my dear, I've told you quite enough of all the boring goings-on at work. How was _your _day 'Storia?"

"It's funny you should ask," said Astoria, sensing that this was her chance. "Things have been awfully dreary here, lately."

Her father answered offhandedly. "That's a shame. Nothing to do with your sister?"

"No, she was off with Tracey. Actually, Daddy, there was something I wanted your opinion about." She glanced at her mother, who smiled slightly. Apparently she approved of the approach.

"Hm?" Her father seemed to be enjoying his pheasant very much.

"I was thinking about getting a job."

He put his fork down and laughed.

"What do you need one of those for?"

"Well, I don't _need_ one. I just thought it would be a good way to spend my time. I mean, I did get seven N.E.W.T.s." She paused and looked at her mother for reassurance. The older woman nodded. "And I really think I could do something at the Ministry. I mean, nothing too involved," she continued, sensing danger. "But I'm sure there's some department which could put me to use." Astoria held her breath as her father began eating again. She could tell he was thinking.

"You got practically a perfect score on your Charms N.E.W.T, didn't you?" Astoria was a little surprised that her father had remembered that.

"Very nearly, yes."

He looked conflicted. Astoria knew that he wouldn't want anyone to think that his daughters had to work, but he also wouldn't want to put a perfectly good bragging opportunity to waste.

"You know, I ran into Marjorie Edgecombe, today," he said, mostly addressing Astoria's mother. "She works in the Department of Magical Transportation, and she said they are looking to hire more Portkey termini. Apparently more and more people are straying away from broomstick use. Who would have guessed?"

"How surprising," said Astoria's mother, faked interest written all over her face.

Astoria tried to keep herself from smiling too broadly, as she didn't want him to change his mind at the last second. Her father turned to her and smiled.

"Anyway, dear, does that sound like something you'd be interested in? I could put in a good word for you, if you'd like."

"You know what, Daddy? That sounds exactly like what I had in mind."

"Good," he said. "I'll see what I can do."

They ate in silence for a moment.

"Oh, what lovely flowers!"


	6. The Fight

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**_

_**A/N: I'm not going to bother with excuses. It's been a while. I've had a medical relapse. That's all you need to know. Sorry that it's way short. **_

**Six: The Fight**

Draco tried very hard to leave as quietly as possible, and he was almost successful in sneaking out. In fact, he already had his hand on the doorknob when he heard his mother calling from the sitting room. "Draco? Where are you going?" He rolled his eyes, feeling very much like a teenager again.

"I'm going out to the pub with Gregory and Blaise!" he replied, hoping that she wouldn't try to hold him up or hinder him. Unfortunately, he heard her getting up in the other room and making her way towards where he was.

"Draco, you promised me that you'd go to the Ministry tomorrow and work out the transportation for our Christmas party," she reminded him.

He knew this was just an excuse. His mother didn't want him to go out because she felt that it was still dangerous for them to be in public at night. As much as their money had bought them back much of their power and influence, it was no secret that the Malfoys were not well-liked by much of the English wizarding community. "Mother, I'm still going to do that for you," he said, hoping to appease her. "Besides, we're just going to the Hare; I'll be back by one at the latest."

She sighed. "Alright, fine. Just be careful."

"Mother, I'm always careful," he reminded her. It was the truth.

Before she could say anything else to hinder him from going, Draco stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek, and then was out the front door. He turned on the spot and soon found himself in front of the Hare. It was one of the few places where he knew he'd be more than welcome, as the family that ran it had sympathized with the Dark Lord's message, and were more than happy to be friendly towards ex-Death Eaters after the war was over. Once, Katerina, the elderly barmaid, had slid him a pint of butterbeer on the house, whispering, "At least you tried to do something." He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

That being said, Draco had already entered the Harried Hare and gone towards the back of the building, where the bar room was located. Blaise and Goyle weren't there yet, but Draco was more than happy to sit by himself with a bottle of firewhiskey while he waited. Katerina seemed happy to see him.

"No friends tonight?" she asked, her icy blue eyes laced with kindness. Her face was so covered with wrinkles and she stooped when she walked. She seemed very tired. Draco felt bad for her. He thought that she should have retired years ago.

"They're coming," he took a shot. "Katerina, can't your granddaughter do this for you? You deserve some rest."

She laughed. "Are you calling me old? Certainly not; I'm only going on a hundred. Besides, she's young. She needs her beauty sleep to attract some nice young fellow like yourself." She said the last sentence with an inflection in her voice that made it clear she thought Draco would be a good match for her granddaughter. Draco smiled. Katerina's granddaughter, who shared the same name, was almost thirty. He supposed that a ten year age difference seemed trivial when you were a hundred, but to him Katerina the younger was much too old to consider dating.

"I'm sure there's someone out there for her," he said, his voice neutral. He was about to change the subject when Blaise slipped onto the bar stool next to him, smiling brightly and pouring himself a shot.

"Flirting with the employees again, Draco?" he asked. His teasing was mostly directed at Katerina.

The bartender smiled and went on her way to serve other customers.

"So," said Blaise, seriously, "Have you found any pretty English hearts to break?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I haven't exactly been looking, Blaise."

"That's no way to live!" the other boy exclaimed. "You're young, rich, and handsome. Live a little, Draco, before it's too late!"

"As if you're one to talk," Draco said, scowling. "How old were you when you got married? Twenty?"

"Well yes," said Blaise, contemplating this. "But I did all the living I needed to before I realized just how wonderful Daphne was." He was getting starry eyed. It was a little disgusting.

"Oh no, is he talking about Daphne?" Goyle asked, as he sat down on Blaise's other sided.

"Unfortunately." Draco was both surprised and impressed at Goyle's power of deduction. It was very out of character for him.

"Actually," Blaise said, clearly determined not to let Draco change the subject, "We were talking about how Draco really needs to find a pretty little witch to mess around with. He hasn't dated anyone since Pansy."

There was a pause while Blaise took another shot of firewhiskey. He was clearly eager to stir up trouble, and Draco figured that it would be best to stay a little sober on this occasion.

"Didn't he mess with that Greengrass girl? At your wedding?" Draco was absolutely horrified that even Goyle had heard and remembered that rumor.

"I don't know how many times I have to say this," he said, wary of Blaise's expression, "but I did not sleep with, mess around with, or partake in any romantic or sexual interactions with Astoria Greengrass. Nor do I want to." That was a flat out lie. Astoria was gorgeous. He wouldn't mind partaking in sexual interactions with her. Or romantic ones; but then, that must be the firewhiskey speaking, Draco reminded himself, entirely unconvinced.

Come to think of it, he hadn't thought of Astoria in a while. It was probably because of their horrible encounter that night at Blaise's party, and he had no desire to relive any of the emotions he had felt then. However, now that he was thinking of her the memories came flooding back, making him want to hex himself. Interestingly enough, it also made him want to write her.

But he was snapped back into reality by Blaise, who nodded at a familiar looking wizard across the bar. He seemed to be about their age, so Draco figured they must have know each other at school. "Who's that?" He asked.

"Ernie MacMillan," Blaise said. Goyle grunted. "He was a Hufflepuff, I think. Bit of a prick, if I remember correctly. Always talking down to everyone."

Draco turned around to see that Ernie was glaring at them. "What's his problem?" he asked, annoyed that this former schoolmate was putting a small damper on his night. As much as he hated going out, he had actually looked forward to spending time with his friends. Things got very lonely at the Malfoy Manor, though he would never fully admit that to himself.

"Dunno," Blaise said, taking yet another shot. "He looks pretty sloshed, though."

Draco turned around again. That was definitely true. Ernie was loudly talking about his job and how prestigious it was, though everyone around him seemed entirely uninterested, including his friends. They accidentally made eye contact. Ernie gave Draco such a look of contempt that he turned back to his friends. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"Yeah," Blaise said, slurring his words a little. "He wouldn't. He was part of that whole Dumbledore's Army business, I think."

That would explain it. Draco had done some things around the Dumbledore's Army members that he wasn't exactly proud of. Then again, he thought morosely, he'd done a lot of things he wasn't proud of, and those certainly weren't the worst offenses. He almost felt his left wrist tingling, but he was sure that the mixture of memories and firewhiskey were causing him to imagine it.

"Anyway," Blaise said, taking yet another bit of firewhiskey, "what were we talking about before him?"

"I don't remember," Draco lied.

"I think it was that Draco needs a girl," Goyle commented innocently. Draco realized that his friend had yet to have drunk anything, and so would have a very good memory, even though he still had little tact. Draco gave him a dirty look.

"Right!" Blaise nearly shouted. "Draco needs a girl. Who would be good for him?" He looked at Goyle, brainstorming. "Tracey Davis? No, no, she's dating Flint, and he's not a fellow I'd like to cross. He could get back together with Pansy," he started, but then he glanced over at Draco and saw that he was scowling. They all burst into laughter.

"I assure you that I will never, ever get back with Pansy Parkinson."

"Suit yourself," Blaise said cheerfully, going for some more firewhiskey. Draco made eye contact with Katerina, who only shrugged at him. Apparently Blaise wasn't drunk enough to be shut off. This was going to be a long night.

"Don't hate me about 'Storia," Blaise insisted. Draco only laughed.

"There's nothing to hate about. I wrote her some letters, she was very nice. It's not like I had fallen in love with her."

"Good. I'd hate to see you make her unhappy."

Draco furrowed his brow. "Blaise, what in the name of Merlin are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about that-Holy Shit!" Blaise went for his wand, but before he could get it out Draco felt something hard hit the back of his head. He turned around but didn't see anything. The bar room was deadly quiet.

"What is the meaning of this?" shouted Katerina, addressing Ernie MacMillan. "Shooting curses in my establishment!" Her wand was drawn. It took Draco a moment to realize what had happened. At first he thought that he'd been hit by a curse, and was overcome with fear. Then he realized that he must have only been hit by a barrier put up by Katerina. After some eighty years of tending bar, she must have known which wizards and witches to watch. He slightly resented the fact that he had been rescued by an old woman, but he would certainly be tipping very well tonight, regardless.

"Oh, stop," Ernie slurred. "Nobody wants him here. Speak up if you want the Death Eater!"

Nobody said a word.

Draco knew that it was because they didn't want to provoke the drunken man, but even so, it hurt. Nobody did particularly want him here; most of them probably wanted him anywhere else.

"He is not your concern, minding himself across the room!" Katerina shrieked, anger showing clearly on her face. "Leave! Go now! You will not soil my bar with your dirty, traitor blood!"

The patronage of the Hare was such that no one was offended by this comment, and anyone who was knew better than to say anything. Ernie seemed to realize this too, and so he got up to leave, mumbling all the way out the door.

"And be careful!" Katerina yelled, "Don't apparate drunk in front of my building. I don't need a Ministry investigation."

After a few moments of Ernie having left, the dull roar that had previously been in the bar room returned. Katerina went over to his table.

"Draco, dear, are you alright?" He nodded.

"Just fine, and thank you so much," he said. "I'll probably be leaving soon, though. I'm quite tired."

Blaise too nodded. "Yeah, I probably should be getting back to Daphne. I promised her that I wouldn't be out to late.

Goyle decided to stay a bit longer, so Draco and Blaise left the bar together.

"Don't let it get to you," Blaise said, before he turned and apparated home. "Some people are just sore winners."

Draco frowned. Blaise had meant well, surely, but if Ernie was the winner, then that made Draco part of the losing side. He never considered himself to be on that part, as his allegiance to the Dark Lord had only been due to necessity; after all, he had been staying at his house, and there wasn't really any other choice. He guessed that was how it looked to outsiders, though. He was just a Death Eater, kept out of Askaban on a technicality.

He apparated home.


	7. The Café

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. **_

_**A/N: I'm trying to get the Christmas Party chapter up by Christmas Eve, so there might be a few this week. No promises, though. Also, before you ask, yes, I am aware the Ernie is a Pureblood. **_

**Seven: The Café**

Astoria had never realized how much paperwork being a portkey termini actually entailed, and, as she was the youngest _and _the newest member in her office, much of this work was delegated to her. In fact, three weeks had passed and she hadn't done any fieldwork at all. This was just as well, because that seemed more difficult than filling out endless papers with items, locations, and destinations was mundane. However, she'd also found that there was a very nice girl who worked in the office who was in a very similar situation as she was, except that she was a muggleborn and needed the galleons that she earned. This girl's name was Michele Jones, and she started to grow on Astoria almost immediately.

So, on this Thursday morning, when Astoria had gone in late to work because she had slept in and forgotten to tell Poppi to wake he up, she was pleased to see that Michele had already gotten the both of them tea from The Leaky Cauldron. "You're in bright and early," Michele joked, handing a steaming cup to Astoria. She took it gratefully, but didn't cross into their cubicle yet.

"How's my in-tray?" she asked, examining Michele's face to see if she could discern the answer. Astoria's own face immediately dropped when she saw the sympathetic look she was receiving. Michele laughed.

"I don't think you want to see it. There's just three folders but one of them's huge. I don't know what kind of event it must be for, but I'm happy it didn't land in my tray."

Astoria finally took her seat next to Michele and looked at the in-tray. She groaned. That one would be keeping her here into the night, unless Michele was kind enough to help her when she finished all of her things. The manila folder was absolutely huge; much bigger than Astoria had anticipated. There were at least fifty pieces of parchment in there, which meant there were at least fifty portkeys to organize and arrange. She too wondered what kind of event would call for that many portkeys. Maybe it had something to do with sports, or some Society. "I'll be working through break," she sighed, as she took a long sip of her tea.

"Don't say that!" squealed a voice that Astoria knew all too well. She looked up to see her sister prancing through the door, a broad smile on her face. "I brought chocolate," Daphne announced, putting the offering onto their desk before she could be kicked out for intruding.

Astoria took a piece gratefully. "What are you even doing here, Daphie? Don't you have something better to be doing?" Daphne had taken to coming in and bothering Astoria at work. She insisted that it was not only her sister, but also their father and Blaise who she 'visited', but Astoria wasn't convinced. Daphne saw Blaise everyday, and their father never mentioned her coming in to see him when he came home from work, usually much later than Astoria, who generally worked from nine to five.

"No," said Daphne, after a moment, "I don't have anything better to be doing. Mummy told me not to bother you at work anymore, but I have such an interesting story it just can't wait." She saw the look on Astoria's face. "No really! I promise you'll like it. So, guess what Blaise did last night." Astoria hesitated. There was a very high probability that she didn't want to know what Daphne and Blaise had gotten up to the night before, so it was only due to her affection for her sister that she asked what they had done. "Oh, not me," Daphne went on, a twinkle in her eye. "I just stayed at home like the good housewife that I am." Astoria and Michele both tried to hide their laughter: Astoria by stuffing her mouth with chocolate and Michele by snorting into her tea. "Anyway," said Daphne, pretending not to notice, "Blaise went out for drinks with his friends. You know, Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle, of course?" Astoria nodded, annoyed, and Michele just shrugged, apathetic.

"Well, they went to the Harried Hare, and apparently Draco Malfoy got into a fight with a fellow named Ernie MacSomething. It wasn't pretty. Curses flying all across the room, poor old Katerina needing Blaise and Gregory to help sort out the fight." She stopped, waiting for Astoria or Michele to react in some way. Astoria was only thoughtful, at least at first.

"What did they fight over?" she asked, after a moment. Daphne beamed. Apparently this was a question that she had been waiting to be asked, because she delved into detail immediately.

"Well, this Ernie fellow was a muggleborn, and so he wasn't too fond of Draco, calling him a Death Eater and all that. Draco got into a fury and ended up shooting a curse at Ernie-or," she put a finger to her lip, clearly in thought, "-or maybe Ernie cast a curse at Draco, first. Either way, they ended up getting into a huge shouting match, and then shot some curses at each other."

"How odd," murmured Astoria, truthfully. She was a little concerned. "Did either of them get hurt?"

"Oh no," Daphne said, "No one was hurt too badly, though I believe that Ernie's eye got blackened in the chaos. Anyway, do you want to go out to tea later today? I'm meeting Tracey." Astoria shook her head.

"No, I really can't, I have a lot of work to do and-"

"Skive off, then!" Daphne was impatient. She didn't seem to understand that Astoria's job was just that: a job. She didn't have to work for money, of course, but she had to do all her work unless she wanted to get fired. As boring as it had turned out to be, she still enjoyed having something to do during the day, and she quite enjoyed being around Michele. Besides, it had turned out to be a wonderful excuse for turning down similar invitations from Daphne.

"I told you, I really can't," Astoria said, flatly. "This isn't like school, where you can skip a class without any real consequences, Daphne. You know that I would love nothing more than to go out with you and Tracey, but unfortunately I have to work, lest I get fired. Father put himself out on a limb to get this job for me, and I'm not going to make him look like a fool in front of the whole Department of Magical Transportation."

"Fine," Daphne said curtly, snatching up her bag of chocolate bars. "I guess I'll go out to tea all by myself." Astoria had opened her mouth to point out that she wouldn't be all by herself because she'd be with Tracey, but Daphne had already stalked out of the room. It was just as well, as Astoria really needed to get to work.

She decided to work on the two smaller folders first, as each of them only had two pieces of parchment in them. They went by very quickly, and it was only about forty-five minutes later that she looked at the third folder, opening it carefully. When she saw the name that was written there, she became unreasonably nervous; these days, anything to do with Draco made her feel that way.

_Client: Narcissa Malfoy_

_Event: Holdiay Party_

_Number of Portkeys Requested: 52_

_Number of Portkeys Granted: 52_

_Additional Details: Requests that invitations are portkeys_

"This is unbelievable," said Astoria, turning to Michele in exasperation. The other girl looked up from her work. "Fifty-two," she said, "They've requested fifty-two portkeys for a _party._"

Michele laughed. "How many did they get?"

"It's the Malfoys," Astoria explained, and Michele raised her eyebrows, clearly not quite undertsanding just how much sway they had in society. "Michele, they got all of them."

Michele dropped her quill, blotting ink all over the paper she was working on. "You're definitely coming out to tea with me," she said, and continued before Astoria could protest. "You're not going sit and do fifty-two straight applications. It's not healthy. You'll probably go mad by the time you're finished." Astoria shook her head.

"Probably, but I'd like to go home by seven or eight o'clock. How am I supposed to do that if I take half an hour off for break?"

Michele, it seemed, was not going to be swayed. "You absolutely can't do that. It's not fair. I'll help you finish, if you want, but you are not staying here into the night to fill out portkey applications for some stupid party."

Suddenly, another voice rang out in the room. "Surely you're not talking about _our _party." Astoria ducked under the partition so that Draco couldn't see her, though she knew it was only a matter of time until she would have to talk to him. She knew it was silly for her to be the embarrassed one, as he was the one who had offended, but she just couldn't deal with the awkwardness that would occur between them.

"Are you Narcissa Malfoy?" asked Michele, sarcastically. Astoria felt some foreign, hot emotion bubble up in her when she heard the slight inflection of flirtation in Michele's voice. She was sure that if she hadn't had her schooling in America, Michele would not be so inclined to flirt with an ex-Death Eater.

"Not quite," Draco replied. Astoria assumed that he didn't know Michele, as she seriously doubted that he would flirt back with a muggleborn. Then again, maybe she was just imagining things because-well, maybe she was just imagining things. "I'm her son," Draco continued, "And I have a few things I need to discuss about the Christmas Party."

"Well, you'll have to ask Astoria," Michele continued. "It's her file."

Astoria knew that it was not logical to blame Michele for admitting that she was there, as Michele had not yet been clued in to Astoria and Draco's past. Not that they had a past. But whatever had happened to them previously, Michele didn't know about it. Even so, she couldn't help but feel angry toward her friend, though she did have the courtesy to feel a little bad about. She sat up in her chair, cheeks burning red.

"Hello, Draco," she said, after a very heavy pause. Astoria looked at Michele, who was currently looking from one to the other. She could apparently tell that there was some kind of tension there.

"Hello, Astoria," Draco said, after another moment. "Er, I've just brought these invitations. Mother said that I could just give them to you, and then they'd be fixed into portkeys and you could just send them out?" She could tell that he didn't know what to think about her being here, and that he clearly had not expected her to be employed by the Department of Magical Transportation.

"I'll just take them," she said, holding her hand out over the partition. When he gave them to here, their skin brushed, and Astoria blushed furiously. She had butterflies in her stomach; it was foolish, though. Like Daphne had told her, she didn't know anything about Draco, and he had probably done things which would absolutely horrify her.

Draco was still standing there awkwardly. "Do you need me to help you with anything else?" Astoria was using her professional voice. She hoped Draco wouldn't be offended, but she really did need him to go. After all, she did have fifty-two papers to fill out, and fifty-two invitations to charm. It wasn't too difficult, but it would take a lot of tedious work.

He shook his head. "I'll just be going, then. See you around, Astoria," he said in a skeptical voice.

"See you-wait!" she said, just as he was walking out the door. "Can I ask you something?" He looked a little startled, but otherwise Astoria could not read Draco's expression.

"This might be a little personal, but are you alright?" Draco was staring at her blankly. She realized that it had been stupid not to preface that sentence by telling him that she knew about his fight at the Harried Hare. She blushed even more. "I mean, from your... duel." She figured that was a better word than brawl.

Draco looked just as confused as he had before. "You did get into a fight, didn't you? That's what Daphne said." Astoria regretted bringing this up, but it was too late to turn back now. "She said that you went out to the Hare with Blaise and Gregory Goyle, and that you and Ernie Something-or-Other shot some hexes at each other."

Suddenly, Draco started laughing, shaking his head. "Honestly, Astoria, you know better than to believe everything you hear. I didn't get into a fight with Ernie, he just shot a curse at me and Katerina kicked him out. People talk, remember?" Then it was Draco's turn to blush, and his cheeks turned pink. "You know, I'd really ought to be going. I have... things to do." With that, he practically ran out of the room.

"What was _that _about?" Michele asked, leaning forward on her elbows, eyes opened wide with interest.

"I dont' want to talk about it," Astoria said, her voice deadpan. Michele looked annoyed. "Look, I'll go out for tea with you and tell you then. Right now I have to cry over charming fifty-two invitations."

Astoria looked morosely at the pile of gilded envelopes before her. It wasn't just the mountain of work that was troubling her, despite what she had told Michele. No, it was something that Draco had said. "People talk." She felt like she had let people talking get between her and Draco. They had had a great friendship, and suddenly she'd allowed her sister to convince her that Draco was bad news. Maybe he was, but Astoria had enough sense to keep out of any romantic relationship with a Malfoy. Didn't she? Then she had remembered what he had said at Daphne's party, and how she had been a triviality to him. It was all very confusing

Sighing, she picked up the first envelope. She was pleased to see that Narcissa Malfoy had at least alphabetized them all. "Alright, Sir & Mrs. Bulstrode," she said under her breath, mostly to herself, "I can do this."

She continued working steadily until just before it was time to go to tea; Michele, who had grown up in America, took it earlier than most. However, it wasn't the excursion which broke Astoria out of the trance of her work. It was the address of the envelope that she was reading. She'd just read the first line mechanically, then charmed it, and then almost moved on. Then, however, she had picked it up quickly and reread the name to whom it was addressed. _Mr. & Mrs.__ Greengrass. _

Her parents would be thrilled. They had never been invited to the Malfoy Manor before, as they weren't well acquainted and of slightly lower social stature. This aside, Astoria couldn't figure out why they had been invited. Surely it wasn't because of her? No, of course not. She was being egotistical. It must have been because Daphne had married Blaise, and because Blaise and Draco were such good friends, the connection between the Malfoys and the Greengrasses had become such that they were now worthy of an invitation.

* * *

><p>Astoria looked around nervously. She had never been in a muggle café before, and it absolutely terrified her. There was no logical reason for it. She was safely with Michele, and she had her wand, and she was almost positive that muggles didn't routinely break out into brawls like many of her former schoolmates had led her to believe.<p>

"Are you sure this is safe?" she asked, taking a sip of what Michele had called a "cappuccino." Michele laughed at her.

"Honestly, everything's fine. Muggle London isn't that different than our London, except for the obvious," she said. Astoria was about to say that Michele should keep her voice down, but then she realized that what Michele was saying didn't give anything away about wizards. She must have been very used to speaking that way, by now.

"And it's very safe, the hotel I'm staying at is just around the corner?"

"Why are you staying _there?_" Astoria asked, again. She couldn't understand why anyone would stay in a muggle hotel when they could have a room in The Leaky Cauldron or some other wizarding establishment. Surely they'd choose the more sanitary option.

"Well, I'm looking for an apartment, but until I find one I figured I'd just stay in a hotel. My parents are over in America, so it's not like I could stay with them and apparate or floo in, like you do." Astoria shook her head. She was quite enjoying her cappuccino.

"No, I mean, why are you staying in Muggle London, and not ours? There are tons of rooms you could get, and I'm sure I could think of a place for you to stay if The Leaky Cauldron was full-" Michele started laughing again. Astoria was starting to get sick of that, and she hoped that Michele would not continue to be so patronizing as they worked together.

"It's cheaper, it's cleaner, and it's more luxurious," Michele said, much to Astoria's surprise. She almost couldn't believe it.

"How is that possible? If they don't have magic, I mean," Astoria asked.

Michele shrugged. "You know, even though they don't use magic, in a lot of ways it wouldn't be unfair for muggles to think that wizards are backwards; still living in little cottages, adhering to some very outdated rules." Michele was, Astoria noticed, diplomatic enough not to mention that it was really just the upperclass Purebloods like the Greengrasses who clung-no, held-onto those rules. Because they were just and proper, of course.


	8. The Kiss

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**_

_**A/N: Aaaand I can't post anything on time. **_

**Eight: The Kiss**

Because of the pure extravagance of his mothers ridiculous holiday party, it had been necessary for Draco to go to the Ministry twice in the past week. The first time, he had the confusing experience of meeting Astoria Greengrass, working as a portkey termina, of all things. He couldn't imagine what she'd need a job for, so he'd asked Blaise, who'd told him that she'd apparently been bored enough to want to work, and that Draco had better remember to stay away from her.

Today was the third time, and he flooed right into the employees entrance. He didn't work there, but there were many privileges that went along with being a Malfoy, and this was one of them. Now he was on business for his father, who wanted him to discuss something with the Minister. Draco's father was a smart man; he knew that the only one in their family who had any hope to get something out of Kingsley Shacklebolt was Draco. Needless to say, they'd been unhappy, though not entirely surprised, when he'd been voted in.

Because Draco was a little early, he decided to stop in at the Office of International Magical Cooperation to see Blaise, as he didn't have too many other acquaintances who worked at the Ministry. In the old days, a Malfoy would have been able to simply walk into the Ministry of Magic and ask to see the Minister, but times had changed. Draco wondered why they had to have changed just as he was old enough to do anything.

That wasn't important, or at least, right now he had to manage to get through the Ministry alive. He was sure that it wasn't technically too dangerous for him, as the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was there, and no one would dare curse someone within the Ministry's walls. Even so, he kept a hand tight around his wand, just in case.

He was so lost in thought about the state of affairs concerning his family that he didn't realize he'd gotten into the lift until he was already on it, and he didn't realize who else was in it until they were on the second floor. This was just as well, because he wasn't sure whether the burning feeling in his cheeks was embarrassment or a more powerful, internal shame.

He didn't even really know who it was. However, he recognized the red hair and freckles, and was pretty sure he'd seen those horn-rimmed glasses somewhere. It must have been Hogwarts, because he couldn't think of another place where he'd come in contact with a Weasley on a regular basis. That is, if he was a Weasley; though, regardless of his identity this fellow was giving Draco such a terrible glare that Draco was positive he had wronged him in some way. Draco wondered exactly what it was that he had done, trying to remember the losses the Weasley family had encountered. He decided that he actually had no desire to know what they were, or to think about the war in any capacity, and instead forced himself to endure the heavy air in the lift until the man finally got off, one floor before Draco.

As he approached the Minister's office, Draco decided that he would stop in and see if Blaise would like to come visit later that week. It would be nice to see a friendly face in the Ministry, for once.

* * *

><p>Draco had invited Blaise to the Manor with the knowledge that he would probably bring Daphne along, which was just as well, as he actually liked Daphne very much. He invited Tracey Davis over with the knowledge that she'd probably bring along Marcus Flint. However, when he'd invited Goyle, he had not expected him to bring along Pansy Parkinson.<p>

She was all over him, and Draco wasn't so sure how he felt about that. Sure, it was great to have Pansy out of his hair, but he didn't want her latching onto Goyle in the same way that she had latched onto him, for the sake of everyone involved. Besides, Goyle wasn't really her type; she liked men who were going somewhere, and, though he was very wealthy, it was clear that Goyle was not headed towards greatness. This led Draco to the conclusion that she was only using his best friend to make him jealous, a prospect that both amused and annoyed him in equal measure.

The idea that he could ever be jealous of Goyle was hilarious. In fact, he could think of only one time when that had occurred, and it was during the time period that he pointedly did not think about. The fact that he'd be jealous of Goyle over _Pansy _was even more comical, because he did not think he could make his disinterest in her any more clear. However, he still wasn't sure how he felt about his best friend dating his ex-girlfriend, and he wasn't sure how he felt about Pansy using his best friend.

This aside, he was having a very pleasant afternoon. It was a chilly, and only a few days before Christmas Eve. His mother had banished them from the downstairs sitting and dining room, where several hired witches and wizards were busily readying for the party, so Draco and his friends were stuck upstairs in the study, huddled around the roaring fireplace.

Daphne was lounging across the lap of her husband in way that she wouldn't dare if Mrs. Malfoy was around. She took a sip of her pumpkin juice and stuck out her tongue in disgust, "Draco," she whined, in a way that he had grown used to after knowing her for ten years, "I still don't see why we can't break out the firewhiskey. It's practically afternoon!"

"Darling," Blaise answered her, with what Draco construed to be genuine concern in his voice, "it's barely noon." He took the pumpkin juice out of her hand and had some before returning it to her. "It's probably best if you wait a little longer to start drinking."

"I agree with Blaise," Tracey said, a smile playing on her lips. "We wouldn't want anyone to go thinking that you're an alcoholic, would we, Pansy?" Pansy giggled up from Goyle, to whom she had been paying much of her attention.

"What?"

"Do you think that Daphne-"

"Should stop drinking? Oh, yes. She's already turned into a raging alcoholic." She smiled wickedly, winking at Draco. He didn't find the subject that funny at all; Daphne _had_ been drinking quite a lot lately. Draco wondered if she was only doing this to get on the other girl's nerves. Regardless, that was the final result, and Daphne stood up with a rush, collecting her skirts around her.

"Fine!" Daphne stormed, walking across the room to where there was some open space. "I won't bother you with my ways. I'll just be going home. Blaise," she said, when he stood up to follow her, "there's no need to come with me. Even though everyone seems to think otherwise, I'm quite capable of taking care of myself." Draco was skeptical on this note, but he knew better than to say anything. Daphne turned a little violently, and then was gone. Blaise looked apologetically at the rest of his friends.

"I'm really sorry," he said, "but I think I should probably follow her home."

Draco nodded. Tracey said, "Make sure she doesn't get into some mulled mead."

As soon as Blaise had also disapparated away, Tracey glared angrily at Pansy. Draco wondered if she was going to say anything on the matter, but she olny muttered that, "Some people should be more careful with their words, don't you think?" to Marcus, before getting up and making her way across the room, leading Marcus by the hand.

"Don't mind us," she said, and then started whispering rapidly to Marcus. At that point, Goyle was starting to look very uncomfortable. "I think I'll go, too," he said, then turned to Pansy, "You can stay, if you want."

"Of course, Dear," she said, before she kissed him dramatically. They didn't break apart for a solid thirty seconds. Draco couldn't help but feel a little nauseous. "But I think I will stay, for a little while. I've barely had a chance to say hello to Mrs. Malfoy, and I haven't seen her in ages. She used to love me back when we were in Hogwarts, you know."

That was certainly stretching the truth, but Draco didn't feel the need to bring this up to Goyle, who was now disapparating. Draco's mother had found Pansy to be polite and of proper blood status, but anyone with the slightest social skills could tell that she had found her to be rather annoying and little too infatuated with her son. Of course, Draco didn't believe that speaking with his mother was Pansy's actual intention when she stayed behind, so this point was essentially irrelevant.

So, after Goyle had gone, Draco turned to her. "Why did you really stay behind?" he asked, but she only smiled.

"I've always liked your family, you know."

"I do know," Draco said, a slight edge in his voice. He supposed that wasn't technically a lie. Pansy had liked his family. She'd liked what was in their Gringott's vault, and their social standing, and the great prestigious genealogy that they offered. As far as his parents went, Draco was a little more skeptical. He seriously doubted that Pansy was fond of his father, whom she'd met briefly on occasion, and knew too well that the sugary sweet mask she put on for his mother was merely a facade.

"They're really lovely," Pansy continued, in a direction that Draco was not sure he was fond of, "but that's to be expected, seeing how you turned out." Draco only nodded. She didn't seem to understand that he was completely uninterested in any romantic relationship with her. She seemed to realize that her tactic wasn't working, so changed to a completely different direction. "I really like Gregory," Pansy said, leaning flirtatiously towards Draco.

He suddenly wondered if it was really necessary for their tones to be so hushed. "Goyle's a great fellow," he agreed, in a voice that was a little louder. He looked towards Tracey and Marcus, but they were completely engrossed in what appeared to be a very serious conversation. "You're really lucky to have him."

"I suppose," Pansy said, her voice still quiet. "I'm just not sure that it's going to work out between us." Draco gulped. He definitely knew where this was going, and he was anything but pleased.

"Why?" he asked, hopeful that she wouldn't say what he thought she was going to say.

"I think I like someone else more," she paused, "I think I love someone."

It was worse than he could have imagined. "Well, you should probably tell that person you care about them," he said, immediately regretting it.

Before he realized what was happening, Pansy leaned in and kissed him. After a few moments of shock, he pulled back, staring angrily into her eyes. She was looking at him lovingly. He had no idea what to do. "Pansy," he started, trying to figure out if it was alright to show her his rage, "I'm not-"

"I just realized that I have to go," said a voice, from across the room. "Take me home, Dear." Tracey had her arm linked with Marcus, and he too turned on the spot. In the heat of the moment, Draco had completely forgotten that they were there. He groaned. This was going to be bad. He liked Tracey, but all of her friends had simply accepted that she was an incurable gossip years ago. This was going to get around, and fast. The rumor about him fighting Ernie was still circulating; the last thing he needed was for this one to join it.

"Look," he said to Pansy, his voice stern. "I'm not interested in you, alright? We dated at Hogwarts, which was fine, but I've grown out of this." He motioned between them to show that he meant their relationship. "I really have. I'm not interested, in any way. You should probably go."

He had never spoken so bluntly to her in his life. It was just not something that was done, but this seemed to be an important exception. He waited for her reaction. It took a while.

"Fine," she said after a moment, and then stood up, just as angrily as Daphne had a little while before. "Fine, but you don't know what you're missing out on. This will be the greatest regret of you life. I'll have Gregory, and you'll have no one." Draco was about to point out that Goyle was probably going to break up with her when he found out that she had kissed Draco, but he decided against it. Let her rage. She would get what was coming to her. Unfortunately, he would get what was coming to her, too.

Then she disapparated, leaving Draco alone by the fire, where, a quarter of an hour before, he had been surrounded by friends. He mentally cursed Goyle for bringing Pansy along and ruining everything, and cursing Pansy for being her usual self.


	9. The Party

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**_

_**A/N: We will definitely be getting the next chapter before Christmas break is over. (But we all know how my promises go.)**_

**Nine: The Party**

It was very nearly time for Astoria to go downstairs to meet her parents, sister, and brother-in-law; it was very nearly time to apparate to the Malfoy Manor and enjoy a party that was admittedly a little above their usual social stature. However, now Astoria was laying on her bed, hands covering her face, her once-meticulously arranged, light brown curls strewn about her head.

She wasn't even sure what was making her so tired, at this point, though she was sure that if she took much longer she would make her entire family late for the Malfoys' famed Christmas party. It was the event of the year. All the prominent pureblood families wanted an invitation, as it meant you were moving up in the world. However, Astoria did not want to be seen with bags under her eyes and ruffled hair, so instead she just covered her face with her hands and let out a long, drawn out sigh. She could hear her sister's voice from earlier, echoing in her ears.

They had been sitting by the fire, eating Poppi's fudge, just like they used to when they were little. Somewhere, Blaise was off talking to their parents and their little elf was toiling away. She had been enjoying the silence when her sister spoke. "'Storia, if I tell you something do you promise not to get upset?"

"I guess so," Astoria had shrugged. She tried to think of all the things that Astoria could say which would potentially upset her. The list was very long.

"I know that you fancy Draco Malfoy-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Astoria said, truthfully. She didn't like Draco, at all. I mean, sure, she missed his letters, and was quite taken by the way he had smiled at her when he'd seen her at work, and was curious about him, and maybe even thought that he was rather handsome, but that didn't mean she fancied him. "I know you're desperate for me to have some kind of strange infatuation with him but-"

"I know that you fancy him," Daphne said flatly. Astoria rolled her eyes.

"Fine, if you really want me to fancy him, then I can fancy him."

"I don't want you to fancy him. I don't want you to at all. I'm pretty sure we've already had that conversation," Daphne was about to continue, but Astoria just wasn't having it.

"You really need to mind your own business, anyway. I mean, it's not like I was," Astoria stopped, not wanting to compare her relationship, or lack thereof, with Draco with Daphne and Blaise, because that would be admitting, or, she corrected herself, wrongly insinuating, that she had any sort of romantic feelings for him. "It's not like I was ever really involved with him. We just wrote letters for a few weeks, and we've stopped, so you can just drop it."

"I just thought that you might like to know that he's getting back together with Pansy Parkinson." Daphne's voice was tainted with wickedness, as Astoria would have expected it to be. It really was pointless, as it wasn't as if Astoria actually _did _fancy him. She felt her stomach drop a little, but tried not to let the wave of emotion that was crashing over her show on her face.

She shrugged again. "That's unlucky for him." Her sister laughed, and looked a little too relieved for Astoria's liking. As if she had expected her to break down into tears. As if that would happen.

"I'm happy you feel that way," said the blond girl, tossing her curls, "You know, I was worried that you'd hex me. Or one of them at the party. They'll probably be there together, or at least, that's what Tracey told me. I thought that it was only fair to warn you." There had been a brief moment of silence, and then, "So! So you think mother will let us get into the elven wine? I know it's expensive, but it is almost Christmas." Astoria had kindly reminded her sister that it was still morning, only to receive an exasperated, "Oh, not you too," and a playful shove.

Eventually, Astoria was jolted back into the present by the creaking of her bedroom door. There was the patter of tiny feet, and then a familiar, little weight next to her on the bed. "Does Mistress want to talk?" said the tiny voice. Perhaps it was only because she didn't want to worry Poppi that Astoria sat up, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. She thought that she must look very much like a child. Poppi, however, was smiling gently, and beckoned for a makeup compact which was sitting on Astoria's dresser. She allowed Astoria one final yawn, and then busied herself with making Astoria look as cheerful as ever.

"It's really nothing, Poppi," Astoria said, after a minute or so of being attacked with powder. The house elf made a little tutting noise with her tongue, but didn't push the matter. It was probably this that guilted Astoria into elaborating. "Actually, I'm just quite upset about this whole Malfoy nonsense," she sighed. Poppi pulled back and gave her a knowing look.

"Mistress has not forgotten the kindness of sweet Young Master Malfoy?" Astoria couldn't help but laugh. She had forgotten how taken the little elf had been with him.

"It's not that." It was only partially a lie. "I'm just tired of all the... drama. Draco has been acting very strangely, for one thing, at least from what I hear. Did you know that Daphne says he got into a bar fight and then kissed Pansy Parkinson?"

"If that is what Mistress Daphie says, it must be true," Poppi said carefully, giving Astoria a significant look. Astoria knew what she was getting at, but couldn't say for fear of speaking out against her masters. Even now, Poppi was becoming a little more fidgety. It made Astoria feel vaguely guilty, but she didn't bother with words of consolation, as she knew that they would be futile.

"I guess," she frowned instead, and the elf again busied herself with fixing Astoria's face.

"There, all is better now." The elf made a small mirror come zooming towards them, and sure enough Astoria's face did not show any vestiges of exhaustian. "You're amazing, Poppi," Astoria said, trying to work up the energy to beam at the house elf.

"Mistress looks very nice," smiled Poppi, before getting off the bed with an agile little hop. "She should probably go downstairs, if she does not want to make the other Masters late," the elf reminded, with only a hint of sternness in her voice. Then she turned and scurried out of the room, undoubtedly off to continue with her usual work.

Astoria went over to her large mirror and carefully fixed her hair. She was surprised that the damage was not too terrible, and it only took her a moment to get everything back to normal. Then she put on her most winning smile, and headed downstairs to face her family.

"Beautiful as ever," said her father, beaming and kissing her on the cheek.

"You do look quite lovely," Daphne gave, though she was clearly nonplussed. Maybe she thought that Astoria's black skirts had upstaged her own deep red ones. In any case, it was time to go, and her family put a finger on the portkey, waiting for it to start glowing blue. Daphne and Blaise had their own invitation, and were standing just as patiently. It was only a few seconds before her sister was gone, but it took slightly longer for theirs to catch. For a frantic second, Astoria thought that it might not work-that they all might not work, and she would be fired and have to spend the rest of her days learning to knit.

However, after only a few seconds it was their turn to see the gentle blue glow that Astoria was now very acquainted with, and then they had their brief hurtle through nothingness.

When she had completely regained her senses, Astoria found herself standing at the foot of a very long, gravel driveway. She noticed the expansive hedges, on which there were several white peacocks, and the grandness of the gardens around them. For a moment, she couldn't believe that Draco had grown up with such decadence. The Malfoys didn't seem to have as much land as the Greengrasses, but they made up for it with grandeur.

There were even several open carriages, pulled by huge, white horses, which were taking guests up to the Manor in the groups from which they came. Astoria pulled her shimmering black wrap around her shoulders, and then went towards one of them with her family. The driver graciously helped the women into the carriage, and tipped his hat at her father before hopping onto his seat and starting the horses up the drive.

The slight wind the carriage was causing was very cold, and Astoria couldn't wait to get inside. Of course, once she was inside and saw the many pale-faced paintings and the gilded banister, she wasn't sure she wanted to be there anymore. She was nervous about meeting the Malofys, and she was nervous about seeing Draco. The last time had been quite embarrassing, to say the least. Honestly, she had tried to _hide _from him. It had not been very ladylike, on her part.

"Oh, don't worry," laughed Daphne, coming up next to her. She realized that Daphne had been here many times over their school career, and this would be normal to her. "It's just a silly house." She had misinterpreted Astoria's worry, apparently thinking that she was intimidated by the wealth of the Manor. The fact of the matter was, it wasn't too much more than their own manor, it was just much bigger. One of the portraits was glaring at Daphne. Astoria supposed that he had heard her comment about the Malfoy Manor being "just a silly house."

"Let's go," said Astoria, before the man in the portrait could make some sort of comment. In a way, it was a relief. She didn't need to work up the courage to go forward when she was running from something else. Of course, when she entered a high ceilinged room that was mostly void of furniture, her nerves returned again. It was all going to be fine, she reminded herself. There was nothing to fear.

When she entered, she and her sister were approached by a very tall woman, whose blond hair was streaked with grey. It could only be Draco's mother. "Hello, Daphne. No Blaise?" smiled the woman, who Astoria realized had probably met her sister on occasion. The idea that Daphne had known the Malfoy family for years was very strange to her. "This must be your sister," the woman searched only for a moment before Astoria's name was on her tongue. Astoria was actually very impressed at this woman's social prowess, as they'd never met before. "I'm so pleased to meet you. I believe that Draco's mentioned you once or twice."

"I'm pleased to meet you as well. I'm sure Draco's said only good things?" She couldn't believe her nerve; she blushed at her forwardness and at the idea of Draco talking about her to his mother. She had no idea what he could possibly have said. Surely he hadn't said anything about their letters, which were a little too emotionally driven to be proper.

"Nothing bad," Narcissa said, with a thin-lipped smile. Then she straightened up just a little, "I'll get back to you girls later, I must go greet my other guests!"

After Mrs. Malfoy had left, Daphne turned to Astoria. "I actually do have to go find Blaise," she said, "and I think I'll have some champagne," she was eyeing the silver platters of alcohol which were floating through the crowd. "Do you want any?"

Astoria rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything about drinking to her sister. "No thanks." She remembered the last time she'd drunk champagne, and it hadn't been a pretty sight. She'd almost thrown up on Draco Malfoy and-and then she remembered how Mrs. Malfoy must have recalled her.

Astoria's mother had written a letter to Draco's about their supposed antics on the night of Daphne's wedding! That meant that Mrs. Malfoy remembered her because she had taken part in bringing scandal onto her family. Astoria blushed fiercely, and suddenly everything felt quite stuffy. She decided that she ought to find some water, and started making her way through the crowd.

As fate would have it, Tracey Davis was looking for water too. "I'm avoiding Marcus again," she confided in Astoria. "He wants to dance with me." Marcus was good on a broom, but it was no secret that he seemed to have two left feet while on the ground. Astoria nodded.

"We always seem to get stuck together at parties," she commented, and the other girl laughed.

"We do," Tracey smiled. "Let's stick together. I can use you as an excuse not to dance with Marcus." It seemed like a good plan, and Astoria agreed to it. Eventually they were joined by Blaise, who was eyeing the champagne class in Daphne's hand skeptically. If he said anything about it, Astoria didn't notice, and the night passed on rather uneventfully, except for the interruption from some older witch or wizard, who was usually some distant relation.

It was very strange; for being at a Malfoy party, Astoria found that she had mostly forgotten that the Malfoys were there, except for when Mr. Malfoy stopped Blaise and they had a chat about his impending ambassadorial stay in the WUPAS. "We're leaving in June," Blaise had smiled, and then lowered his voice to say that he "wasn't sure Daphne is too pleased about it." Then Mr. Malfoy was on his way, and everything was back to normal.

Soon, Astoria found that everything was getting rather stuffy. She had never been to a party so large or so grand. "Would it be rude to excuse myself and go outside?" she whispered to Tracey. She would have asked Daphne, but she was pretty sure her sister was on her fourth glass of champagne. Though Daphne held her liquor well, Astoria just didn't want to chance it.

"Probably," Tracey whispered back, "but don't worry, no one's watching." She winked, and then drew the attention of the group to herself. Astoria was grateful, though she hoped Tracey would not somehow make this little excursion into a rumor about her.

She slipped out of the dining room, past the sitting room, and into the foyer. In fact, she already had her hand on the doorknob to the grounds when she heard a voice behind her. It was the last voice that she wanted to hear.

"Where are you going?" she whipped around to see Draco, and blushed furiously at her childish action of sneaking away. This was not like a late night at her sister's wedding, this was a serious function. She bit her lip.

"I was just going out for some air. I'm afraid that I'm not used to such large crowds anymore." It was true. While at Hogwarts, she would have easily maneuvered through a huge common room party, but this wasn't the same. There was some sort of decorum, there were standards to be upheld. There was a prolonged silence, which Astoria was compelled to break. "Where's Pansy?" she asked, after a moment. There. A safe statement.

"I haven't the slightest idea. I'm not even sure that she came. Apparently she hasn't been... feeling to well." Astoria couldn't read Draco's tone or expression at all, though she was pretty sure he was trying to tell her something else behind his words. He almost sounded sarcastic.

"Well, tell her that I hope she feels better," Astoria said, starting to walk back towards the main of the party. She was still feeling a little lightheaded, but she wanted to get away from Draco as quickly as possible, and that would be easier in a crowd.

"You should probably tell Pansy," Draco said, taking her off guard. "I don't think she'll be too pleased to see me."

Astoria contemplated this, going through as many scenarios as she could think of in her head. Maybe Draco had broken her heart, just like Pansy had warned Astoria that he would do to her. Maybe they had gotten into a fight over something trivial. Maybe they had never kissed, and Tracey or Daphne had just exaggerated the situation, as they were apt to do. Maybe Pansy had broken up with Draco when he'd done something rude to her, or maybe he'd realized that she was completely annoying and broken up with her. Or maybe, she thought, after a moment, they'd never really gotten together. She was dying to know.

That's why, when Draco asked, "Actually, would you like to go for a walk? I can show you the grounds," Astoria did not decline the offer, despite Daphne's voice ringing in her head, telling her that Draco Malfoy was bad news.


	10. The Truth

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**_

_**A/N: 1) Thank you all for the inundation of lovely reviews! 2)You have been patient readers. This is short but hopefully gratifying. **_

**Ten: The Truth**

Draco didn't know what had possessed him to ask Astoria to go for a walk with him, and he was already regretting it. It definitely had to be kept a secret. It wouldn't matter how much they insisted it was innocent. Blaise would react badly, as he had constantly reminded Draco not to get involved with Astoria. Draco didn't even want to think about how his mother would eye him icily, and then tell Astoria that she really ought to leave, it was getting dreadfully late. He didn't even know why he had asked her to begin with, though he did have to admire his own nerve.

He was especially surprised that Astoria hadn't declined his offer, as it would reflect more terribly on her than it did on him. Even so, he now crossed the hallway and opened the door, beckoning for her to go through first. Once he was outside, he realized that it was freezing, and Astoria only had a light shawl over her dress. He felt a little guiltier.

"So," he began, his voice trailing off a little. He didn't know where to begin. "Where would you like to go? To see the peacocks? Or perhaps the fountain?"

Astoria just shrugged. "Wherever." She smiled in a way that Draco couldn't quite place. That was one of the many frustrating things about Astoria. He could read most of his friends very well, but her-well, with her he just had no idea. Not that she was really his friend, exactly, but they did seem to be running into each other an awful lot lately. Now, where to take her... he decided that she might like the fountain, as it was bewitched to have heated water, and would give off some warmth. He tugged his dress robes a little more tightly around him. It was a very cold December night.

"Right. Well, I think you'll like the fountain. It's very, er, pretty. Come this way." Things used to be so easy with girls back at Hogwarts. Not that Astoria was a girl, at least in that way. She was just the rather pretty baby sister of his friend, he reminded himself sternly.

They walked in a silence that was only a little uncomfortable, at least to Draco, as he had already resigned himself to the idea that they really didn't have anything to say to each other. He led her down the winding path to where their fountain was located; it was of a wizard, some ancestor, undoubtedly, with water flowing out of his wand. It was shimmering and giving off light, a charm that had been performed years before Draco was born. He congratulated himself on picking this spot.

"It reminds me of the statue they used to have in the Ministry of Magic," Astoria said, holding out her palms to be warmed. "Do you remember? It was before the one the have now, and before the one before that. It was my favorite thing about visiting Father at work."

Draco wracked his brain, trying to think of a time he had visited the Ministry before the war. Then he saw the statue, of all the "Magical Brethren." He frowned a little. "Some people thought it was offensive."

Astoria nodded. "I suppose so. I guess that centaurs aren't overly fond of wizards, so they wouldn't like it very much, but the house elf was so happy." The conversation was very strange. It was flat, as far as Draco could tell, with no double meaning. They were just sitting there, talking plainly about an old fountain, of all things.

"I miss it," he admitted, "the way the Ministry used to be." She turned to him. Her eyes were opened a little wider in surprise. "It was so much... grander, when that fountain was there."

She smiled. "Maybe it's just because we were children. I mean, I never saw that statue when I was any more than four and a half feet tall. That made it pretty impressive. The one that's there now isn't so special, especially because I walk by it everyday."

That was something that Draco had been wondering about. "Why do you want to work there, anyway?" He hated the place. He hated it because of how it had been during the war, and he hated it because of all the people he saw when he went there. Once, he had run into Harry Potter, even. They had just nodded at each other and moved on. He was determined never to speak to him again, if it could be avoided.

He realized that Astoria had been speaking, and he just caught the end of what she had been saying. "-so I guess it was just to give me something to do. It's actually quite pleasant, even though it's a little boring." He nodded, though thinking about how he would never really be able to get a job. No one would hire him, because of his past. It's not like he needed one. His family had other ways of increasing their fortune.

"Daphne thinks I'm mad," Astoria continued, smiling wryly. "Pansy, of all people, told me that it was a good way to distract myself. This was after I was already hired. I think she just wanted me to stay away from-" Astoria cut herself off and looked away. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but from the light from the fountain Draco was pretty sure that she was blushing.

"Pansy always works towards her own motives," he said, as evenly as he could. It was all he could do to keep himself from blurting out that they had absolutely no romantic connection, and that Pansy was just clinging onto something that was long gone. He decided that he was so tempted to tell Astoria because they had been the subject of a false rumor together, and so she was more likely to believe him. Even so, he kept his tongue.

"Well, she was a Slytherin," Astoria pointed out, she was now smiling at the stone wizard before them. "We have ways of getting what we want."

"Of course." It wasn't fair. Draco never got what he wanted, anymore. He hadn't had what he wanted since the end of his fifth year at Hogwarts. He felt like telling Astoria this, too, but their time of sharing thoughts had ended when their letters had. Draco wondered if him being more open with her would have led them to a different result. What that result would be, though, he had no idea.

"Did you really kiss Pansy?"

The question was so blunt, so forward, that it took Draco completely off guard. He wasn't used to being addressed so plainly, and Astoria clearly wasn't used to speaking that way, as she immediately looked pointedly in the opposite direction from Draco. "I- well, in a manner of speaking," he sputtered. There was another silence, broken only when he said, "She kissed me."

"Oh." Astoria was still looking in the other direction, so Draco had no idea what was going on with her face. Maybe that had been part of her plan. He didn't know what to say, so he didn't speak. He didn't even dare ask if she wanted to go back inside, so instead he just stood, looking at the back of Astoria's head. It must have been several minutes before she turned around, a strange look of what could only be determination in her face.

Then, before Draco knew what was happening, Astoria was on the tip of her toes. She pressed her lips against his just once, but it was long. He wasn't quite sure what was going on in his brain, but whatever it was, it was very pleasant.

Then she pulled back, and it was over as quickly as it had happened. "Merlin's-! I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, I just-"

"No, it's fine honestly, it was alright." He paused, and then added, "It was more than alright." She'd just kissed him, so he figured that it couldn't hurt all that much.

Astoria step towards him, her eyes searching, but not heavy like she wanted him to kiss her. "I don't- I'm not- I'm just not sure. About anything." He nodded, something inside him felt very satisfied; Draco felt like this was something that he had been wanting to happen for a long time. He realized that this was because he _had _wanted this to happen for a long time, even though he hadn't known it. Or perhaps he had.

"I need time to think about-things," Astoria said, after a moment, "but I'll write you. As soon as I sort everything out, I'll write you." She collected her skirts and started walking back up to the manor. Draco knew better than to follow her, and decided to wait a few minutes before he went back inside. He still couldn't help himself from calling out to her.

"Astoria!" she turned around. He smiled. "This is all," he paused, searching for the right words, "alright with me." He hoped that she would understand what he was trying to say. He thought he saw a hint of a smile as she turned back around. That was fine, he decided. It was a good sign.

The thing was, he didn't want Astoria in the same way he had wanted countless girls at Hogwarts. Sure, she was good-looking, but there was something about her that made her irresistible. Maybe it was how she was so understanding, or how she wasn't afraid to break certain conventions. Draco watched her until she was back in the manor, and then started walking up towards the party, himself.

Once he reentered the room, he was accosted by his mother. "Where were you?" she whispered, her voice harsh.

"I went for a walk."

"A walk?" his mother actually laughed, but in an icy way that Draco had learned to fear. It meant that he was in trouble, and though she no longer really punished him, her wrath was not something that he was keen to deal with. It would make braver men than he quake with fright. "This is no time to be going for a walk, Draco. Go around! Socialize! There, there's Miss Parkinson. Go talk to her, if you're not going to associate with others!"

Draco had no desire to talk to Pansy, especially after all that had just happened. In a way, the thought that he should thank her, though he reminded himself that all that he knew about his and Astoria's situation was that she was going to write him. Whatever that meant.

He spotted a distant cousin, and went in the other direction.

The party ended at midnight, and Draco went up to bed shortly afterwards. He fell right asleep. However, he was awakened by a tapping on his window: one that he had unknowingly grown to miss. The clock on his bedside table said that it was just past four.

"Hello, you wretched creature," he said to the owl, as he opened the window. He stroked its head and it hooted indignantly, and held out its leg so that he could take Astoria's letter.

_Dear Draco,_

_ I think that the odds have been against us. I mean honestly, more than a few people have told me that we would be terrible together. I was thinking about writing you and telling you that I'm sorry, but this just isn't going to work out, but why? Because Daphne says so? I don't know if you're aware, but Daphne isn't always the best to take advice from, even when it seems sound, like it does now. _

_ Let me put it this way: If you ask me to go somewhere with you, I won't say no. But I don't want people to know, at least, not yet. The last thing I need is my sister on a drunken rampage, and Pansy will make my life as unpleasant as possible if she finds out. I don't mean for this to be a secret forever, but if everything breaks down after just one time out together, there's really no point in alerting the masses to the fact that we tried, right? I don't know if you've noticed, but people talk, and the last thing we need is another rumor about us. Even if it's true._

_ Yours for now, Astoria._

Yours for now. That was exactly what Draco wanted to hear. As much as he liked her, he had hoped that she wouldn't' be another Pansy, obsessed and absolutely lovestruck. Being secret might actually be rather fun. This in mind, he found a clean piece of parchment and a quill, and carefully crafted his reply.

_Dear Astoria._

_ I agree about the odds. Blaise hasn't exactly been keen on us getting together, either, and Pansy would throw an absolute fit. (If it happens, I want to be present for it. She can be amusing when she's scary, as I'm sure you know.) _

_ Have you ever heard of Black Fowl Inn? It's a little bit like The Leaky Cauldron, except dodgier. I used to go there a lot two or three years ago, but I don't think anyone will know you there. We could go late the night before New Years Eve, though I think we should both make a pact to stay sober._

_ My perhaps-temporary affection, Draco_


	11. The Proposal

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**_

_**A/N: No comment on the fact that it has been like a month. Sorry in advance for my inability to write anything that is remotely steamy.**_

**Eleven: The Proposal**

There was a loud crack, and Astoria appeared on the cobblestone outside of Gringotts. She pulled her cloak around herself a little more tightly, before starting out towards Knockturn Alley, shuddering a little. She hated Knockturn Alley more than any other place she could think of, and wasn't too keen on passing through it at night. However, Draco had said that one simply couldn't just floo into The Black Fowl, her destination, and this was the closest place she knew well enough to apparate to; she'd have to make the rest of the journey by foot.

It was a testament to how much she liked Draco Malfoy that she had agreed to this, and it surprised her that she had. Of course, when he had initially asked her to a pub she hadn't thought twice about accepting his invitation, but once he had described in it more depth her reserve had started to falter. Now that she was in Knockturn Alley, she considered turning back. The shadows seemed to do strange things on the various storefronts, which were closed for the night. Maybe they weren't shadows at all. She'd only been here a handful of times before, and that had been in the light of day, with one of her parents. "I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered as quietly as she could, even though it appeared that no one was around to overhear. In Knockturn Alley, she wouldn't be surprised to find someone lurking in the darkness.

She started to walk faster. _Why _had she agreed to this? It was stupid, really. Why hadn't she asked him to come meet her, either? Surely anyone who cared about her wouldn't send her through this terrible street at night. Unless, of course, he didn't know that she was taking that route, and thought that she knew enough about the area to apparate directly onto the stoop of the pub. Which he probably had, considering that she'd told him not to worry, and that she could get there by herself.

As soon as she passed onto the next street, Astoria let out the breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. At least she wouldn't have to walk here on the way back; she could simply apparate directly into her room. She'd told her mother and Poppi that she was going over to Daphne's and probably going to stay late. It was, admittedly, a somewhat transparent ruse, seeing as her mother and Daphne corresponded quite often, but Astoria hoped that because she saw her sister so much there would be no cause for bringing this up in conversation.

Finally, she saw the decrepit wooden sign that Draco had described to her: a simple rectangle with a carving of a black bird. It was so old that there weren't even any words; it was from a time when it wasn't uncommon for witches and wizards to be unable to read. Astoria kept her hand on her wand as she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the bright light, and then she looked around, the hood of her cloak still up, despite the fact that there was no chill inside the building. After a moment or two of looking around, Astoria decided that it was safe enough to take her cloak off. Much to her relief, the other customers were not quite as strange as she imagined, although there was a hulking figure in the corner so tucked into a black cloak that it was impossible to tell his—or, she supposed, her—identity from this far off. Most of the others were simply not of the same social tier as Draco and herself, and so wouldn't know to start rumors about them meeting each other here. It really was a brilliant idea, to convene there, she thought, her fear from just a few moments completely dissolved in the warmth of the pub.

"Astoria!" Draco waved her over to the bar, where he was sitting. He had saved an empty stool for her, which she realized was a somewhat difficult task in a place like this. He did not seem fazed. Once she had sat down, Draco ordered two butterbeers from a squat barman. Astoria couldn't help but grimace at the little man's very tragic dental hygiene. "So how was your Christmas?" Draco asked, once their drinks had arrived. Astoria folded her cloak and slipped it onto her seat before answering.

"It was alright. Uneventful," a sudden memory struck Astoria, and she couldn't help but smile. "You should have seen the antique diamond bracelet Blaise got for Daphie." Astoria could see the scene perfectly in her head: Daphne popping into the sitting room, rushing towards her with a broad smile. Her sister had always been wide awake on Christmas day, bouncing around, excited to get gifts. "It must have cost a fortune," Astoria said, snapping out of her thoughts. "Maybe it was an heirloom. Anyway, can you guess what Daphne said about it?" Draco shook his head. Astoria continued, "She said 'Isn't it lovely? I really wanted some elven wine, but I suppose this is just as good.'"

Draco chuckled a bit, but then his face furrowed a little. "Is she alright?"

Astoria shrugged. She was worried about Daphne. "I'm sure she's fine. She's just bored, I think."

"Aren't we all?" The question was rhetorical, but also a little sad. Astoria was very pleased when she realized that she had a legitimate answer.

"I'm not," she said. "Working at the Ministry was the best idea I've had, at least since I graduated Hogwarts. It's great to have something to do all day. I mean, Tracey's off with Marcus half the time, Pansy's… well, she's Pansy, Blaise is getting ready for his ambassadorial trip, and you have to do things for your father, don't you?"

Draco nodded. Astoria wasn't sure if he was answering her question or if he understood what she was trying to say. Daphne must have been very lonely. It really was difficult being the child of a prestigious pureblood family. There was so much work that went into keeping up appearances, and nothing to do if you were of a certain age. It was almost like they were in limbo; they were too old to be amused by toys and other childish things, but too young to be amused by their mothers' parties. Most of the males got jobs, and the females generally went about with their school friends. There really was nothing for poor Daphne to do.

"Maybe Daphne should get a job," Draco said. There was a pause, and then they both burst out laughing.

"I somehow can't imagine that," said Astoria, grinning. The image of Daphne concentrating behind a desk at the ministry nearly made her laugh. It wasn't that her sister was stupid, exactly. She was just delicate. Or at least, that was one way to put it. There was a pause, and Astoria took a sip of her drink. "Now, tell me about your Christmas."

Draco shrugged. "Oh, you know. It was typical." Astoria wondered for a moment whether or not she should have gotten him a gift, but then pushed that thought out of her mind. What would you buy a Malfoy, anyway? Precious jewels were a little out of her price range, and Draco probably had enough of those, anyway.

"Well, that's better than it being awful." Astoria smiled, trying to be as optimistic as possible. "Besides, you _are _going to have the best New Years Eve eve of your life."

He raised his eyebrows. "Why is that?"

Astoria laughed. "Because I'm here, of course," her voice faltered a little. She wasn't very good at this. "Not to mention the overwhelming sense of adventure." She was partially sarcastic, and hoped that he could read that in her voice. Then she blushed in disbelief at herself. What in the name of Merlin had possessed her to say that?

As the night drew on, and Astoria found that she was enjoying herself very much. She allowed herself to get just a little giddy with copious amounts of butterbeer—and a shot of firewhiskey that Draco had agreed to match—and came to the realization that there was going to be no pretending with Draco after this. It was just as well. Perhaps that stage was inevitable after she almost puked on him—and that gave her a thought.

"Draco?" she said, a smile playing on her lips, "What did we talk about at Daphne's wedding?"

There was a very heavy pause. He didn't stop smiling, but something in his face became forced. "I don't remember." Apparently, there was going to be some pretending after all.

"That's not really fair," Astoria replied. She wasn't exactly angry, but she certainly wasn't pleased. She kept a smile fixed on her face.

"How is it not fair? It's not my fault that I can't remember, at least in a manner of speaking." Astoria was almost sure that Draco knew that she knew he was lying. She smiled even more broadly. He gave in. "Well, we just talked about school and the old days. Nothing too exciting, to be honest." Though she wasn't really satisfied with this answer, Astoria decided to let it go, as she didn't want to ruin the evening. She would weasel it out of him, someday.

About half an hour later, she checked the dainty silver watch on her wrist. "Merlin!" she exclaimed. Her mother was going to curse her. "One more round of butterbeer, then let's call it a night!" she declared, smiling broadly.

They drank their bottles quickly. Astoria had to admit that as much fun as she was having with Draco, she was eager to get home, at least to avoid trouble. It didn't really matter that her parents would already be in bed, because Poppi would still be awake to tell on her in the morning. That was really the only drawback about the little elf, Astoria thought, with a mixture of fondness and frustration. A few moments later she stood, and found that she was so tired that she was very much awake. "Let's do something," she said, half yawning. She surprised herself by clutching onto Draco's arm. She assured herself that it was because of the alcohol and tiredness, though she really wasn't all that drunk.

"Do what?"

"Anything."

There was a moment of silence. Astoria hoped that Draco didn't mind being put on the spot. "We could go for a walk," Astoria offered, it being as good a suggestion as anything else. "Show me the area."

"Alright." Draco smiled wryly. Astoria realized that this street was not exactly the typical haunt for a Malfoy. Her confidence was definitely dwindling. She really ought to keep her mouth shut.

As they left the pub, a wizard that Astoria didn't know smiled knowingly at them. "Have fun!" He called out the door, causing Astoria to blush furiously. She thought that she could just see a trace of pink in Draco's cheeks, but the only light was from a lamppost a little while off, so she couldn't be sure.

"Well," Draco said, after a moment. "Would you like the grand tour, or is there something in particular that you want to see?" Astoria was pretty sure he was being sarcastic, but she decided to play along. She wouldn't allow him to make a fool out of her; in fact, she decided to go against her conviction to keep her mouth shut completely.

"Oh, show me anything." She turned her head up to the side so that she could make eye contact. "I want to see everything," she made sure to keep her voice as casual as possible, and she smiled as innocently as she could.

"Ah," Draco said. There was a very heavy pause, during which Astoria assumed that he was trying to work out what she was asking him to do. Because of this, she was surprised when he slid his arm out from hers, and took her right hand with his left. "Come this way," he said. "I have the perfect place to show you." He started off briskly.

Astoria was pretty sure that he had gotten her point, as he turned into a very dark alley between two shops which looked like they had been boarded up for years. Suddenly, she was overcome with a very horrible feeling in her stomach. Perhaps he had gotten her point a little too well, which could create all sorts of problems, some significantly worse than others.

He turned around, and was looking at her in a way that she was familiar enough with, at least from the eyes of other men. Before she had a chance to say anything to him, Draco kissed her. She was so overcome by her nerves that she stood absolutely still. He clearly noticed, because after just a moment he pulled back. "Are you alright?" he asked quickly. "Is this alright?" It was impossible to read his expression in the dark.

Astoria could feel the heat rushing into her cheeks. "Yes. I'm fine. Well, I mean, I guess I am. This is fine too, I think. It's just that," she buried her face in her hands. She had successfully made this into a disaster. "_That's _fine," she said significantly. Her heart was racing. Draco was undoubtedly used to getting what he wanted, and she wasn't sure how he was about to react. "It's just that… well, you see, I just don't want to," she couldn't quite get the words out. She felt like she was about fourteen again. Much to her despair, Draco laughed. She hoped that it wasn't at her.

"That's fine," he said. "That's fine, I understand."

"Oh. Okay. Well, good." He laughed again. They both seemed to have the same thought at once, and their lips crashed together.

This wasn't like the shy kiss that they had shared in the gardens of the Malfoy Manor. It was quicker, breathier, and much more passionate; after only a few moments, Astoria could feel Draco's hand tangling in her hair, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly. She let him back her up against the brick of one of the buildings, both of them clumsy in the blindness of their embrace. It didn't even concern her that she'd have to do a lot of explaining regarding how disgusting her cloak was going to be due to the filth on the wall that she was leaning against. At that particular moment, all that mattered were Draco's lips moving with hers, and his tongue at her bottom lip, and the delicious scent of butterbeer and Draco on his breath, and his body pressed against her.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, but Draco broke away in what Astoria considered to be far too little time. After a moment, she had regained her senses enough to light her wand and check the time. She gasped. "We should definitely be going," still a little breathless. When she spoke, she realized that her lips were pleasantly numb, and just a little swollen.

Draco nodded in the wandlight. "Probably." He leaned down and kissed her again, though this time much more quickly. "When can we see each other again?" He sounded eager.

Astoria blushed, though she put her finger to her lips a little thoughtfully. She would have to approach the situation carefully. The voice of her sister echoed in her head, telling her to be sure of any wizard's intentions before she fell in too deep. "Ask me out properly," she decided, "and I'll say yes."

She didn't want to hear any response or excuses, so she stood on her toes to kiss him one last time, before slipping out from between him and the wall and turning on the spot.

Astoria apparated directly into her bedroom, right next to her armoire. She was still very tired, she realized, as she threw off her cloak and started changing out of her robes. There must have been a very stupid grin on her face, she thought, though at that moment she didn't particularly care. It wasn't as if there was anyone around to see her besides Poppi, who might pop her head in to scold her and inform her that her mother had been worried sick.

At least, that's what Astoria had thought before she turned around, and saw her sister sitting on her bed, arms crossed. Her eyes widened with fear. "How was Daphne's?" Daphne asked pointedly.

"Don't do this," Astoria said, frustrated. This night had been nearly perfect, and now Daphne had to come and ruin everything.

"Do what? Tell Mummy and Daddy that little Astoria is running around with a _Malfoy?" _

"I was not—"

Daphne stood up, waving her hand. "Don't try that with me. I'm not quite as easy to lie to as our parents. Marcus Flint saw you there, and told Tracey. She told me straight off, of course." Astoria couldn't believe this. At first, she was in shock when she realized that the hulking man in the corner of the pub must have been none other than Marcus Flint. Such would be her luck. She'd never be allowed to see Draco again if her parents found out that she had been sneaking around with him. Daphne was about to ruin everything.

"Can't you just mind your own business," Astoria hissed, finally overcome with rage at her sister. Daphne had tried to keep them apart, and now she was actually going to be able to do it. "I know you don't like Draco. That's fine. But I do, and you're not the one seeing him, so could you please just lay off."

Her sister looked taken aback, and then thoughtful. Astoria realized happily that this was one of the few times lately that she'd seen her sister completely sober. "Fine," Daphne said snatching her wand off the bed. "I'm not going to say a single word to anyone, except Blaise. I've already told you how I feel about this, and you know what's at stake here." The blond girl's expression softened. "I just care about you, 'Storia. Don't let him ruin you." With a flick of her hand, Daphne walked out of the room.

Astoria listened to her sister make her way down the stairs. The fact that Daphne hadn't run off and told their parents immediately was more confusing than the fact that she had essentially said that she was going to back out of Astoria's love life. She wasn't sure whether or not she could trust her, but she did know that somewhere, deep down, her sister had her best interests at heart.

She felt as if she had been confunded. She didn't have a reason to trust Draco, but she didn't have a reason to trust Daphne, either. She did have good reasons to distrust both of them, and she definitely had reasons to be wary of Draco. Through all of this, she still really liked Draco, and for some reason thought that he felt the same way about her.

She commended herself on her request that Draco court her publically. If he really cared about her, he would. If he didn't… well, she'd be a little crushed.

He had been a rather good kisser, if nothing else.


	12. The Date

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**_

_**A/N: I don't have any excuses. I'm sorry that this is almost entirely dialogue. Also, for those of you who have messaged me, I'm sorry for not having responded. I didn't get on this account for months, as you've obviously noticed.**_

_**Twelve: The Date **_

Asking Astoria's parents if he could take her out was not a daunting task at all, and asking Astoria was barely necessary, seeing as she'd basically already said yes. The thing that Draco dreaded most about the whole ordeal would be asking hismother if he would be allowed to court a Greengrass girl. Well, perhaps asking was the wrong term. He would inform her that he was thinking about taking Astoria out publically, and his mother would tell him whether or not she thought it was a good idea. Back when those rumors about him and Astoria were being whispered, he remembered that his mother had told him that she approved of the Greengrass family. However, because of those rumors everything was much more complicated than he wished.

He also didn't want to keep Astoria waiting; he felt like he'd played with her emotions enough, even if it had been unintentional. Besides, she was a gorgeous witch, and it was only a matter of time before she would get tired of the endless game that they seemed to be playing and would direct her attentions at some other, more timely wizard. That's why, when Draco got up a little past noon on the first of the year, that he decided he wouldn't waste time. He'd talk to his mother about the whole thing tonight, and then the next day he'd talk to Astoria's parents.

Just as he'd finished fastening his day robes, there was a knock on his bedroom door. "Um, who is it?" His hand paused at the collar of his robes.

"Blaise."

Blaise's tone was less than friendly, and Draco knew at least one thing that would cause his friend to be angry with him. There was a sinking feeling somewhere in his stomach as he opened the door. "Oh, well, come in, then."

The other wizard strode into the room, shutting the door behind him. He crossed his arms. Draco tried to look as innocent as possible, though he wasn't sure that he was able to look at all innocent anymore. "So." Blaise's tone was flat, and Draco understood that he wasn't supposed to answer. The events of the previous night were hanging in the air around the room. "Daphne seems to think that you've been sneaking around with her sister."

"Does she?"

"Don't bother playing games with me."

Draco saw that any denial would be pointless. He leaned on the side of his armoire. "Fine," he sighed in defeat, "We went out last night. To the Black Fowl. It was a rather enjoyable evening."

Blaise's eyebrows shot up, just as Draco realized how his last statement could be construed. "The Black Fowl? And_ how_ enjoyable, exactly?"

There was really no point in trying to justify taking a girl out to the Black Fowl, seeing as the only reason anyone would go there would be to avoid being seen. Besides, judging by the barely contained fury in Blaise's eyes, at this point that was the least of Draco's worries. "Nothing like that. At all. Honestly."

"I'm not sure that I'm satisfied with that answer, Malfoy." So he was Malfoy, now, and was Blaise clutching his wand inside his cloak or was his hand just curled into a fist? This conversation was only going downhill.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" Draco's own voice was rising now. He was more angry with himself for putting Astoria's perceived virtue in jeopardy than he was with Blaise for accusing him of actually besmirching it, but he was sure that it wouldn't even occur to the other man that Draco might be feeling guilty. "Look, Astoria's a nice girl," Draco said, trying to level his voice, "I didn't do anything that would ruin her reputation. I barely touched her." Technically, those statements were stretching the truth, but what Blaise didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Or Draco.

This seemed to calm Blaise a little, and Draco was relieved to see when he took his hand out of his cloak, wandless, though his friend was still far from pleased. "That hardly matters; do you realize that Daphne found out about this through _Tracey?_" Draco could feel his expression falling slightly. That was definitely a problem, and he didn't know what to think about it, let alone how to respond to his friend. Thankfully, Blaise continued speaking. _"_Why do you have to mess around with my wife's sister, out of all the damn witches in England? I don't want to have to care about your stupid antics."

"I'm not messing her around." Draco was on the defensive once more. "In fact, I was going to talk to her parents about seeing her. Tomorrow."

The strangest look came over Blaise's face. Draco was unsure as to whether it was skeptical or incredulous, but Blaise's laugh had no malice in it. It was all disbelief. "What is wrong with you, mate? Why didn't you just do that in the first place?" Draco opened his mouth to respond, but Blaise kept speaking, "It's like you're trying to make things more difficult for yourself."

"I'm definitely not trying." Draco was about to say that it was Astoria's idea to keep things secretive, but he decided that it would probably make Blaise angry again.

Blaise shook his head. "Well, it's definitely coming off that way. Daphne's livid. Astoria somehow talked her into not telling their parents, though. " Blaise checked the gold watch that was resting on his wrist, and frowned. "I'm late for work. I have to go in today to meet with one of the WUPAS officials."

"You can just apparate out of my room," Draco offered. "Don't bother going all the way downstairs."

Blaise nodded his appreciation. "Thanks." He seemed just about to turn when he looked Draco in the eye. "If I find out you were lying about Daphne's sister," there was a very heavy pause, "Well, I won't be very happy, to say the least." With one last severe look, Blaise apparated away.

As uncomfortable as the encounter had been, it could have gone significantly worse, Draco thought, as he slipped his wand into the pocket of his robe. However, it wasn't exactly the promising start to what could have been an enjoyable morning, and he couldn't help but feel nervous when thinking about the fact that Tracey Davis knew about the night before—or when thinking about the memory of Astoria in the yellow light of the pub, or the ghost of her lips on his. "Get it together," he muttered to himself, as he made his way down to the kitchen.

It was completely ridiculous that he was so enraptured with this girl; that isn't to say that she wasn't lovely, but that Draco just didn't get too emotionally attached to witches. Sure, he enjoyed his friendship with Daphne and he'd always had a sort of exasperated affection for Pansy, but Daphne had always been comfortably uninterested in him and Pansy was always eager to detail his graces. This whole thing of—really liking—Astoria was very new to him. And he was acting like a fourteen year old girl over it.

That embarrassing thought aside, he had his breakfast and then tried to decide what to do with his day. He didn't really have any plans, and he had anticipated being more hungover than he'd turned out to be. It was just as well, he supposed, seeing as he'd had to apparate home, but that also meant he would need to find something to do with himself. He considered going into London, or going to see Goyle, or even confronting Tracey and asking her to keep her mouth shut, but he was a little tired, not in the mood for Goyle's humor, and trying to speak to Tracey about the whole situation would only complicate things more. In the end he decided that he'd just hang around his room until that afternoon, when he'd casually speak to his mother about Astoria.

He stopped in the study, choose a book that looked vaguely interesting, sat on his bed, and had just cracked it open when there was yet another knock on his door. "Come in!" he said again. This time, it was his mother, and Draco thought she was looking more imposing than usual. But then, that could have been simply because Draco didn't particularly want to talk to her about Astoria, and he was afraid that she might have somehow found out about their slight adventure. Of course, if Astoria's parents didn't know, he couldn't imagine who would have taken it upon themselves to tell his mother, but it was entirely possible that—

"Draco, are you even listening to me?" His mother's eyebrows were raised, and Draco realized that he had gotten lost in his thoughts.

He decided that truthfulness was the course of action that was least likely to anger her. "Er, no, sorry." He was sure that he was looking sheepish, but perhaps that would work in his favor, at least for now.

His mother let out an exaggerated sigh, but she didn't seem too upset. "I was just wondering how your New Year's had been, but that seems to be very clear." The look she gave him certainly wasn't one of approval, but there was a certain expression of fondness that only someone who knew his mother very well would recognize.

Looking sheepish had definitely been the right decision. "Yeah, it was fun."

She rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm happy you enjoyed yourself, though I hope you didn't have too much fun before you apparated home." Draco almost opened his mouth to tell her not to treat him like a child, and his mother almost turned to leave, but then she made a sort of tutting noise. "I know what I meant to ask you—why did Blaise stop in so early this morning?" Her tone was casual, but Draco doubted she had simply a passing interest. She must have suspected that something was slightly off.

"He had a book of mine that I'd left at his house ages ago," Draco lied easily, careful to shut out any thoughts of Astoria or the night before. This was one thing that he was very good at. "He had to go into the Ministry today to meet with someone, and just thought he'd drop it off on the way." It was a bit of a lame lie, but the simplest ones were always the best.

"How thoughtful." He doubted that she was convinced, but at least it kept her from pushing the issue. There was a bit of a pause. "Well, I'll see you at supper, dear. No one's coming, but perhaps you ought to dress nicely. It is New Year's Day, after all."

Once again she turned to leave, but this time it was Draco who interrupted her departure. "That reminds me!" She looked at him, surprised. He realized that this might not be the most delicate way to bring up the subject of Astoria, but he couldn't let his resolve falter. "I was thinking about taking Astoria Greengrass out to the Hare or something." Now his mother just looked confused. "She's Blaise's sister in law."

Draco couldn't read her expression for a moment. "Oh. _Oh._ That girl you were talking to at his wedding?"

That was not a good sign. "Yeah."

His mother frowned for a moment. "How do you even know her?"

"She's at Blaise's a lot when I am. She and Daphne are very close."

His mother nodded slightly. "Didn't you and her get in a spot of trouble? But I have always liked the Greengrasses," she said thoughtfully. Then made an expression of what he knew was only feigned disinterest. "Well, do what you think is best, dear. And if you do take her out, bring her around soon."

Draco smiled. "Of course." Finally, his mother actually left, and Draco's smile fell off his face. He put his book aside without having read a word. His mother had been very unclear as to how she felt, which was unlike her. Was she apathetic towards the situation? Had he just missed some vital cue? He mulled over this for a moment, and then it occurred to him that his mother might have actually left the decision to him because she wasn't sure what was best. This made him feel strangely uncomfortable.

Well, if she was going to leave it up to him to decide, then his course of action was clear. He'd write to Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass today, immediately, and then go see them the next day. He'd also write Astoria, of course. It would be better if she was actually prepared to go out when he arrived.

* * *

><p>Though he hadn't been nervous before, Draco couldn't help but feel slightly apprehensive when he apparated to the bottom of the Greengrasses' drive. There was really no reason for this, he reminded himself. He was a Malfoy, and even though their name wasn't exactly devoid of taboo, it still carried prestige. Of course, some part of him actually wanted Astoria's parents to like him; though they had met before, it was only briefly and through Daphne—come to think of it, he doubted they'd heard many flattering stories about him from their oldest daughter.<p>

As soon as he pulled the bell next to the massive wooden door, it swung open to reveal a rather flustered little creature. She curtsied in a rather clumsy and exaggerated fashion. "Young Master Malfoy, what a pleasure! Poppi's masters are in the sitting room. Poppi will show you the way."

Draco looked around as he followed the excitable little elf, considering what he saw; the only other time he'd been inside here was for probably less than a minute and he'd only seen the kitchen. The Greengrass' home was certainly not as fine as his, but very few were, and it was certainly much more luxurious than many of the others that he had been in. There were a few portraits on the walls which were leaning into each other's frames and murmuring to each other as he passed. He hoped that they were saying good things.

"Here is the sitting room!" Poppi opened the door and led the way into the room. On one of the sofas sat a woman who looked very much like Astoria, and a man who Draco recognized from the wedding as Astoria's father. "Master and Mistress, this is young Master Malfoy come to see you. Poppi hopes you have a nice conversation!" She curtsied again, and then hurried out of the room.

Mr. Greengrass rose out of his seat to shake his hand. Draco was relieved to see that he was smiling. "I'm Garrick Greengrass, and this is my wife. I think we've met briefly at Daphne's wedding."

"Draco Malfoy, and I do remember. It was lovely, by the way." They dropped hands, and Mr. Greengrass beamed.

"Did you think so?" Mr. Greengrass asked in his booming voice, a proud smile stretching across his face. It was clear that you could get very far using flattery with this man.

"Of course, it was splendid." Draco replied.

Mrs. Greengrass rose and stood just a step behind her husband. She was smiling, but in a slightly more reserved way. She also almost looked skeptical—such flattery would not go very far with her. "We're very pleased to meet you," she offered. "Astoria's still getting ready. Where did you say that you were taking her again?"

"The Harried Hare," Draco began, but he was cut off again by Mr. Greengrass.

"What is it with you young people and that place? You all seem to do everything there! It's been around forever you know, but when we were young…" His voice was jovial, but Draco sensed he would go on a long while if not interrupted. Thankfully, Mrs. Greengrass casually cut him off.

"Oh darling, don't go on." She laid a hand on her husband's shoulder. Mr. Greengrass looked put out. "But it is a nice place, isn't it?"

"Very. Thank you again for letting me take her out."

"Of course!" bellowed Mr. Greengrass.

"She was rather excited at your invitation," Mrs. Greengrass said, with a slight edge to her voice. Draco could hardly blame her for being suspicious. She was clearly more astute than her husband, at least in regard to their daughter.

"And there she is!" Mr. Greengrass interjected, smiling brightly, "Lovely as ever."

Draco turned around. He wasn't exactly floored; there was nothing spectacular about her robes, and her hair simply fell around her face. Perhaps Mr. Greengrass had put it perfectly: "lovely as ever." She was always lovely.

Draco was disgusted at himself for thinking that, but he could feel himself smiling brightly. Astoria blushed. "Daddy, stop."

"Why should I stop? It's absolutely true, you know-"

"We don't want to keep you," Mrs. Greengrass interrupted, and Draco was sure that Astoria must have been as relieved as he. "Have fun. Behave."

"We will. And we'll be back in a few hours," Draco assured her parents, and soon enough the front door was shutting behind them.

"We really are going to the Hare, aren't we?" Astoria asked, her voice slightly hesitant.

"Of course," Draco replied. "We need to be seen."


	13. The Quaffle

_**Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter. **_

_**Thirteen: The Quaffle**_

Though she had spent a considerable amount of time trying to convince herself otherwise, Astoria had felt some reservations in regard to going out with Draco properly, even after it was apparent that neither her mother nor father would object to the idea. Now, instead of worrying over her sister finding out or her reputation being ruined, Astoria worried about whether or not Draco would lose interest in her, or if all of the sparks between them had been merely the result of doing something wrong.

Much to her relief, as they sat across from each other at the Hare they were able to make conversation with each other easily. In fact, Astoria had just covered her mouth to hide a fit of laughter when she suddenly noticed a change in Draco's expression. All of the mirth had melted out of his face, and it was replaced with something she had difficulty reading. She was about to ask if he was alright, but Draco spoke in a low voice.

"Don't look now, but Pansy and Goyle—Gregory to you, probably—just came in ."

Astoria raised her eyebrows, but didn't say anything. She and Draco had agreed that she should tell Tracey about their date because that way they wouldn't need to spread the word themselves. The tables around them were filled with patrons, so it wasn't as if their entire meal was going to be interrupted by the pair. For some reason, though, Astoria couldn't help but feel a little tense with the knowledge that Pansy would be watching their every move, and she was sure that the other girl would come over to say hello; it would have been rude of Pansy to completely ignore them, and poor Gregory Goyle was almost certainly ignorant of his date's intentions.

"Are they headed this way?" Astoria asked. Without turning around, she was still pretty sure she knew the answer.

"But anyway," Draco continued on the old vein of their conversation, effectively answering. The other must have been in earshot. "I thought it was clever of him to do that. That way aurors didn't need to get involved…oh, hello Goyle. Pansy." He nodded at a point above Astoria's head, and she took the opportunity to turn around and face the others.

"It's so pleasant to see you," Pansy squealed in a way that put Astoria's teeth on edge, "And 'Storia, isn't it funny that I would run into you and Draco _here, _of all places."

"I'm not sure why that would be unusual," Astoria said, furrowing her brow in genuine confusion. What was so significant about the Hare? Or at least, what did it have to do with—

Pansy cut off her thoughts. "Well, don't you remember? This was where we had a conversation with your sister about Draco?" Astoria tried to interject, but Pansy barreled right over her, smiling wickedly. "What did you say, again? I can't seem to recall." Pansy raised a dainty finger to her lips, as if she was trying to remember something. Astoria wondered how much trouble she would get in if she cursed it off.

Astoria was about to inform Pansy that she was afraid she couldn't remember, either, but the other girl exclaimed, "Ah!" and removed her finger from her lips, now inspecting her nails. "Didn't you insist that there was nothing going on between you, and," she paused, "something else—oh! Didn't you promise that you wouldn't let yourself get hurt by Draco Malfoy?"

"Only because you insisted." Astoria's voice was tinged with laughter when she replied, but it was anything but jovial. Pansy's eyes flashed, and Astoria blushed, and suddenly took it upon herself to be very interested in the carpet. It was a nice shade of green, she thought to herself. It vaguely reminded her of the common room at school, although it was much darker.

Finally, Gregory Goyle cleared his throat and she was forced to look up at those around her. Pansy looked rather pleased with herself, Gregory just looked confused, and Astoria found that she was unable to read Draco's expression.

After another beat, Pansy spoke. "Oh no, I haven't said something that I shouldn't have, did I? I hope you can forgive me." That was unlikely, at least in the near future. "I assumed you two told each other everything; haven't you been writing for ages? We must be getting to our table, but it was truly lovely to see you."

"And you as well," Draco supplied, as Pansy and Gregory made their way away. Astoria was surprised at the lack of coldness in his voice, but she was sure that he must be as frustrated with Pansy as she was.

She decided that looking away in embarrassment would only make things more awkward between them, so she allowed herself to meet Draco's gaze. It was completely unreadable. He didn't seem like he was about to speak, so Astoria did, and plainly. "It was ages ago, you know. When we were first writing to each other. I insisted that we weren't involved, because we weren't, and she made some kind of ridiculous teary show."

"Ah."

There was a moment of silence, much to Astoria's great frustration. She didn't know why Draco was so upset, or even if he was so upset. "Was that wrong of me?" Astoria asked.

Draco shook his head and sat up a little straighter. It was almost as if he had come out of a daze. "No. No, you didn't do anything wrong." He cleared his throat. "Now, what were we talking about before Pansy so kindly said hello?"

Though her voice faltered when she answered him, they soon fell back into comfortable conversation, although Draco's strange reaction to Pansy was still nagging at the back of her mind. When her sister asked her how the date had gone, Astoria didn't feel like she was giving a false impression when she smiled slyly and shrugged.

A few days later, Astoria and Michelle were chattering about her coworker's new apartment; she had finally found a place to move into in wizarding London. Astoria found it incredible that her friend's parents didn't seem to mind her living by herself in a strange city. Michelle had laughed, and said, "_I_ find it incredible how old fashioned your sensibilities are."

"They are not!" Astoria turned back to her work in an overdramatic huff, smiling when Michelle laughed. It was a joke, mostly, but Astoria didn't think she was old fashioned at all. Hadn't she snuck around with Draco, without telling her sister or her parents? She had even kissed him first! "You don't know what you're talking about. I'm not old fashioned at all."

Michelle raised her eyebrows. "Yes you are. At least by muggle standards. Wizard's think they're backwards, but you're very 1940s, according to them."

"Well, I'm a witch."

"So are many muggleborns and halfbloods, and they're not nearly as old fashioned as you. Or pure."

Astoria blushed furiously. "Michelle!"

The other girl winked. "It's true. I mean, kissing is great, and all, but…"

"Michelle!"

"Do you think that he's ever gotten the quaffle in—"

"Michelle! I haven't even thought about that at all! You're being very unprofessional, you know." As she giggled, Astoria couldn't help but wonder.

They went back to their work for a moment, but then Michelle asked, "Have you really not ever thought of that?"

"Well, I have now, thanks to you," Astoria's voice was sardonic. Then, she was more serious. "Not really, though. Well, maybe a little. Do you think I should have?"

"Let the quaffle-"

"No! Thought about whether or not he-?"

Michelle shrugged. "I mean, only if it matters to you."

A sudden thought crossed Astoria's mind. "I can't believe I'm discussing this. I've only properly been seeing him for less than a week!"

"It's because I'm muggleborn. My bad morals are rubbing off on your _old fashioned_ sensibilities. Next thing you know, you'll be on the corner of Knockturn Alley…" They dissolved into a fit of giggles, but Astoria was still thinking about what Michelle had said.

"You don't have bad morals."

"Gee, thanks," Michelle rolled her eyes. "I was dying without your approval."

"No, I'm serious." Astoria hesitated, wondering whether or not it was appropriate to continue. She decided that they had already passed that mark ages ago. "There are a lot of things I grew up with that I take for granted. Ideas, I mean. But I'm starting to think that some of those rules were a little bit… arbitrary, I suppose."

"How revolutionary." Even though her voice was flat, Michelle's eyes made it seem like she understood. They flicked down to the file before her and she sighed loudly. "I have to start filling out forms for some funeral; apparently this guy had a_ lot_ of friends."

Astoria leaned over, and glanced at the long list of portkeys they were going to have to create. "He should have thought of us before he died," Astoria laughed, "I bet it didn't even cross his mind how much work we'd have to do because of it. Selfish of him, really."

Michelle giggled. "You're wicked."

"No, I'm not. I'm pure."

The next day, Draco visited Astoria at home. Her father was still at work, and her mother had been gracious enough to leave them alone in the sitting room. They were uninterrupted, except by Poppi, who occasionally stuck her head in the door and asked if they needed anything, her eyes falling to where Draco's hand covered Astoria's. Astoria was sure that her mother had put the elf up to it, so each time she smiled in exasperation and kindly told her that they were just fine.

Astoria had to admit, she was finding it a little bit difficult to be herself. She kept thinking back to how strangely Draco had acted when they'd seen Pansy, or to her conversation with Michelle. She couldn't help but notice how assuredly he sat, and how strong his hands were, or—

"Astoria, are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," she said. Then she shook her head. This was the perfect opportunity to bring up what happened at the Hare. She definitely wasn't about to tell him what she'd discussed with Michelle. "Well actually, I was wondering about something." He nodded expectantly. "Why were you so upset after Pansy left? You were upset, weren't you?"

Draco let out a long sigh, and took his hand off Astoria's. He turned to face her. "I suppose. It's just that Pansy and I have history."

Astoria's face fell. Before now, she was certain that he hadn't had lingering feelings for the other girl, but now she wasn't so sure. She was almost surprised at the flash of jealousy in her chest, and she was even more surprised that Draco's expression changed with hers. She realized that it must have shown on her face.

"Merlin, you don't think I'm still interested in her—do you? Don't worry about that. I don't even think I ever really was. I was just thinking that," there was faint trace of pink on Draco's cheeks now, and he hesitated, "that I didn't want to hurt you. And that I didn't want you to worry about that."

Astoria wasn't convinced, but she decided to drop the subject.

Draco was clearly inclined to do the same. He took her hand again.

"This is completely unrelated, Astoria, but what do you think about coming round the manor for supper this Friday?"

Her eyes widened. "To meet your parents?" Of course, Astoria had met Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy before, but it had been only briefly and under very different circumstances. Astoria could already feel herself becoming nervous at the prospect.

"Well, yes. It has to happen eventually, and I figured it was better sooner or later."

That was the proper thing to do, but for some reason Astoria didn't want to. She thought of Michelle, and old fashioned, and she put on her most winning smile. "That would be lovely, Draco. Tell your mother that I would be thrilled."


End file.
